


You Have to Want It

by InTheArmsofaThief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Werewolf!Stiles, Wolf!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 51,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheArmsofaThief/pseuds/InTheArmsofaThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you.  Want.  The Bite?”  Peter repeated, as if he were talking to a child, "Yes or no?"</p><p>“I don’t want to be like you,” Stiles said with conviction, but Peter could hear past the words.</p><p>The kid may believe he was telling the truth, but Stiles was only lying to himself, and Peter knew it.  Here, the alpha smirked, a predatory gaze fixed on the boy's body.  “I wasn’t really asking.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bite

"Do you. Want. The Bite?" Peter repeated, as if he were talking to a child, but his tone quickly turned around to seductive. Not sexually, but enticing in the power he could give Stiles, tempting the boy with words of glory, all the things Scott was and had gotten but Stiles missed out on due to a simple chance of fate in the woods. "Yes or no?" he asked, his lips, his teeth, already only inches from where he gripped Stiles's wrist. Just as Peter began to lengthen his canines, Stiles pulled away, and Peter let him.

"I don't want to be like you," he said with conviction, but Peter could hear past the words.

"You know what I heard just then?" Peter asked, calmly, casually, his face and words turning harsher with the answer. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the words _I don't want_." The kid may believe he was telling the truth, but Stiles was only lying to himself, and Peter knew it. Here, the alpha smirked, a predatory gaze fixed on the boy's body. "So, fortunately for you, I wasn't really asking."

Quicker than Stiles could counter, Peter snatched his arm up again and bit into the soft flesh and tender muscle of the boy's forearm, right under his elbow. Stiles yelled out in pain. Peter dropped the arm and wiped the blood away from his mouth, satisfaction evident in his glowing red eyes. With one last smirk, Peter got into his car and drove away.

Stiles gripped his bleeding wound, putting pressure to the bite that was sure to turn him. A few tears slid down his face before he even realized he was crying. The taste of salt from a tear rolling onto his tongue shocked Stiles back into reality. Derek was captured and Peter was going after him. Lydia was hopefully in the hospital. Scott would be there. He should be there. Stiles should be there.

He took off running.

X

Outside of Lydia's hospital room, the Sheriff laid into him for all of two seconds before noticing the bite on Stiles's arm.

"It's fine," he insisted. "No, dad it's fine. I'm fine, it's already healing over." It wasn't, but Scott's had taken a few hours. He wasn't worried.

"What the _hell_ happened, Stiles?" his dad demanded. But Stiles couldn't, not now. Not when he just found out Scott isn't at the hospital.

"I promise, dad. I promise, I will tell you everything." His voice was admittedly shaky. Tears threatened the corner of his eyes again and the look of his son stilled the Sheriff in his yelling. "I will tell you _everything_ that you don't even know what's going on, but not now. Tomorrow, I promise."

The sheriff pulled his son into a tight hug, rubbing his back in small circles just like he had when Stiles was a kid waking up from nightmares, or later when he had panic attacks at the dining room table or in the back yard. "Okay," he whispered soothingly. "Okay, I won't make you say anything tonight. But you have to promise me, okay Stiles? Promise me you'll tell me everything."

Stiles nodded into his father's chest. He clung to his dad, apologizing under his breath for the blood that stained his dad's uniform. After a few moments to calm himself, Stiles managed to get his brain back on track and pulled the latest bit of information from his dad. It was arson. A woman, probably now in her late twenties, with a distinct pendant, had done it. _Like_ Allison's, Stiles added quietly in his head. His dad left to take a phone call, telling Stiles to stay put, but he couldn't. He needed to find Scott.

Unfortunately, Stiles with a Jackson swayed by a guilty conscience following, ran into Chris Argent. He asked about Scott's whereabouts, but quickly noted the bloody wound on Stiles's arm. He and his goons pulled the two teens into a nearby exam room. "You're going to turn, kid." Chris said.

"Yeah, I think I figured that much out myself," Stiles replied, clenching his jaw. "I didn't want it. He bit me anyway. Gonna kill me?"

"We don't kill kids," Chris said. Stiles laughed dryly. "We only kill killers. Like the alpha. Like what Scott is turning into. You can't tell me Scott didn't try to kill you on the full moon. Did you have to lock him up!?"

"Yeah, yeah he did," Stiles snarked. He could see Jackson blanching out of the corner of his eye. "I had to handcuff him to a radiator, so what? That's manageable. _This_ ," Stiles said, bringing his forearm up to his face, "This is _manageable_. Would you prefer I had locked him in the basement and burn the whole house down around him. Should I throw myself into a fire?"

Stiles could see Jackson put the pieces together about the Hale fire being caused by hunters, despite Chris's claim to otherwise. For the first time he seemed downright terrified, although Stiles doubted it was for anyone other than himself. Stiles felt no qualms about Jackson's fear. He wasn't the one who would become a target once the ripped flesh on his arm healed. Instead, he told Chris Argent all about his sister.

X

The Argents let Stiles and Jackson go with a quick warning to Stiles. "Now what?" Jackson asked. "Now," Stiles said, twirling the porsche's keys in his hand, "we arm ourselves." Stiles drove them first to the high school, knowing exactly how to break in this time around. Security hadn't really gotten better since last time he came here. They went straight to the chemistry room and Stiles began mixing up two Molotov Cocktails. He had memorized the recipe along with a few other easy, household item type bombs. Jackson nervously triple checked all the ingredients Stiles asked for.

They hurriedly left the school and raced through the preserves to the private property containing one shell of a house. When they got there, the alpha, Peter, was outside, feral looking. Stiles could understand why groups of people dedicated themselves to ridding the world of things like that. Too bad the line was too easy to blur, for them to start attacking Scotts. And pack members who were human. Stiles felt a pang of sympathy for Derek, but didn't have time to dwell on all the misfortunes the man had experienced. Peter was about to attack Scott and Stiles blasted the car horn to get their attention. With Peter's eyes on him, it was time to execute a modicum of revenge.

Stiles's right arm was throbbing. He couldn't find the strength in it, so he tossed the beaker with his left. Despite it not being his dominate arm, he still managed to reach his target. Peter, however caught damn thing. "Ooooh, damn," Stiles muttered to himself. Peter snarled at him and Stiles took a step backwards, his heart rocketing in his chest.

While Stiles was good at putting puzzles together, Scott was a quick thinker on the field. It made him good at team sports more so than the wolf powers. He yelled Allison's name and tossed her the bow. Then, as the alpha got ready to throw the cocktail at the archer, she fired an arrow, breaking the glass and setting Peter to flames. Stiles turned to Jackson just in time to see the normally full of himself jock find his courage and throw the second beaker of liquid fire. Scott knocked Peter back when he still tried to attack Allison, and they all watched on as Peter stumbled back and collapsed, the flames fading, almost absorbing into the skin.

Stiles felt dizzy. His arm hurt, more than it had earlier. More than it had when Peter had sunk his teeth into him. He pulled his hand away from where he had gripped it, as if he could squeeze the pain away, and it came back covered black. That wasn't blood. His wound was oozing black like a supernatural infection. "Scott," he said, fear clearly lacing his voice. He looked up and spotted Derek coming out of the decrepit house. "Derek." Stiles said the name like a plea.

Suddenly Stiles found himself crashing to the ground, his strength giving out on him. Was this what was happening to Lydia? Like an allergic reaction? Stiles convulsed a little on the ground, distantly hearing the shouts of his name, rushed footsteps coming to his side. Peter did say there was a chance the bite could kill him. Was he dying?

"What's happening?" Scott asked, panicked, but when Stiles opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) he was looking into the frantic blue gaze of Derek.

It was Chris who answered. "His body's rejecting the bite. He's not going to make it."

"I don't want to die," Stiles heard Jackson whisper.

Sounds were coming in and out like someone was playing with the volume or messing with the radio dial, fixating on different people. "I have to take care of Peter," Derek said firmly, leaving the space of Stiles's sight. Stiles could hear the labored breaths of the burnt husk of a man. They matched his own shallow breaths.

"Wait!" Scott called, scrambling to stop Derek but not wanting to leave his friend's side. "You said the cure comes from the one who bit you."

"If it's even true, it wouldn't save Stiles if he killed Peter," Derek said quietly, gently almost. Stiles had to strain to hear the words, but it sounded as if Derek was trying his hardest to get a point across. "And if you kill Peter either you revert back to being human, and Stiles dies, or you become the alpha, and Stiles dies."

"Alpha?" Scott whispered, not having realized the reward for killing Peter was something he wanted even less than what he already had. Derek nodded. "But?" Because there was more. They could all hear there was more.

"If I'm the one to kill Peter and I become the alpha, there's a chance I can save your friend."

Scott sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes darted between Peter and Stiles, then to Allison, who was being pulled away by her father, and then back to Stiles where the black goo was bleeding from his nose and overflowing from his mouth. Scott thought of killing Peter, of slicing his claws through him and stopping his heart and he knew he couldn't do it. Not in reality. Even if the choice wasn't blaringly obvious with Stiles's life on the line.

"Save him," Scott begged.

Derek closed his eyes and pretended Peter was a nameless face that killed his sister. His nails shifted into claws, and just as Peter growled out some intelligible words, Derek sliced his throat open. He let the new power surge over him. He didn't even bother trying to reign in the roar that seemed to be pulled straight from his core and through his teeth. When he turned to Scott, he knew his eyes grew red. Still grappling with the new power, Derek raced over to Stiles.

He was shaking now, his eyes snapping in and out of focus as he tried reassuring Scott "It's okay. We saved the day right?" He tried smiling but coughed up more black, much like the time Derek had with a bullet in his arm and no one but Stiles to help him. He owed this kid. "Hey, let my dad know what really happened," he murmured.

"You're not going to die!" Scott yelled. "Right, Derek? He's not going to die."

"I hope not," he replied earnestly. Derek ripped away the sleeve around Stiles's wound. "I need a vital point closer to the heart," he told them, ripping at the boy's collar.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, laughing almost as if it tickled. Derek locked eyes with him while Stiles was still able to focus.

"There are a couple reasons why someone rejects the bite," he told Stiles, needing to get this clear into his head. "Most common is that the person is too physically weak and not enough of a fighter. But you're not, Stiles. Okay? You're a fighter."

"I'm Batman," he mumbled.

Derek's lip quirked involuntarily. "Yeah, you're Batman. You're strong. But you might be rejecting the bite because you're rejecting Peter. Because you didn't want it."

"He thought I was lying," Stiles whined. His eyes were going distant again and Derek carefully tapped his cheek to keep him alert. Derek delicately held Stiles's head, facing him to look at Derek.

"I need you to do me a favor," Derek said, growing desperate. Stiles nodded slightly and Derek let out a breath. "I need you to want it. I'm going to bite you, and since I took Peter's power and we're of the same blood, the new bite will start trying to transform you again, over Peter's. But it will only work if you want it."

"Want it?"

Derek breathed through the tension in the air, the fear reeking off of Scott, the horror and shame falling from Jackson, the death and burning decay from Peter, and focused in on Stiles. "You have to want me to give you the bite. Okay?" There was a beat of silence. Stiles heart beat was slowing and Scott's pacing picked up. "Stiles? _Okay_?"

"Okay."

He didn't hesitate. Derek shifted, the power coursing through him too raw, too much to handle, and perhaps just enough to save Stiles.

Stiles screamed in his ear as he bit into the junction between his neck and shoulder.


	2. The Change

The first time Stiles wakes up, he can't even open his eyes. There are voices, but he's just so tired. He doesn't try to make them out. They're just sounds: soft footsteps on linoleum, machines beeping, the steady buzz of florescent lights. Someone shifts their position in a chair with plastic cushions that squeak with the movement. Stiles falls back to sleep.

The second time Stiles wakes up, his eyes drift open without thinking and he blinks at the glaring lights. Voices are speaking in low tones on the other side of the room and from where Stiles is propped up in his bed, he catches the blurry figures of people in white and blue talking to someone in another bed with a mass of red hair. The sound of his heart monitor rushes him and it seems to be right in his ear and Stiles groans. The voices stop and feet rush over, asking questions, giving instructions, but Stiles can't really understand any of it. It's all too loud and everything _hurts_. Stiles doesn't notice he's crying or gasping out in pain, but suddenly that groggy feeling rushes over him as they pump him with a sedative.

The third time Stiles wakes up, the lights are off and his mind is clear. And he could hear everything. It was odd. Unlike before when things were blasting in his ear, the machines he was hooked up to were normal volume, and the ones beeping across the room were quieter due to distance, but he could make it out, along with the girl's unconscious breathing. He could hear the muttering of people in the hallway and the slosh of someone mopping. It trailed away like hearing does, but he could hear so much further. Stiles's breath hitched, remembering. He wasn't sure if he was thankful to be alive or fearful of being turned.

He noticed a shift in the other person breathing and rustling of sheets. Stiles blinked a few times and his eyes adjusted to the dark, quicker than they would have before. It was as if the lights were only dimmed. The person in the bed across from him was sitting up and Stiles could easily make out Lydia's features.

"Stiles?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

Lydia began crying. "You're awake." She sounded so relieved and his heart swelled. It was already enough to be thankful. He was alive.

"Yeah," he croaked. It was difficult to talk. All of his muscles were sore and he felt utterly drained. He watched Lydia delicately push herself out of bed and walk over to his side, guiding her IV drip beside her.

Lydia sat on Stiles's bed, placing a hand over his. "I'm sorry I left you at the dance," she told him.

"Sorry I couldn't save you," he replied. Lydia squeezed his hand and Stiles smiled benignly. "How are you feeling?"

Lydia placed her other hand over her side and held in a wince. "Better. I'm not healed, but the wound is closed." Stiles tried to figure out what that meant. She had been bitten by Peter but was healing like a human. She was alive. Stiles almost died. "Do you know what attacked us?" she asked. Stiles could hear the desperation in her voice, in the way her pulse picked up, in the hazy vanilla scent she carried that went spicy and bitter with something akin to chili powder and tea.

"Who's been here to see you so far?"

Lydia let out a shaky breath. She could hear all the questions he didn't ask. "It's been four days since the formal," she told him. "I woke up yesterday. My parents came to see me, of course. Your dad's been here more than a few times, watching over you when he could. Mrs. McCall, too. No one besides family has been allowed in, but I'm sure Scott's been outside a couple times."

"And no one's told you anything?" he asked.

"No one's told me anything," she responded.

Stiles turned his hand over so he could hold onto Lydia's. "The body in the woods, two months ago," he began, "was Laura Hale. She was killed by Peter Hale, her uncle. Peter attacked you that night. He's dead now."

He squeezed her hand tighter when he felt her heart spike. "But I have teeth and claw marks on my side," she whispered. "And Allison's aunt was accused of all the murders and the Hale fire…" she trailed off, knowing she was missing something. There was a connection, she just couldn't see it.

"Kate killed all of Derek's family," Stiles said, his breath becoming labored. "Because Kate was a hunter, and she's crazy. She killed kids and people who never hurt anyone. Which is why Peter killed her." He wasn't sure how he knew that. He had a distant memory of someone talking to him in his dreams. Someone telling him stories of that night, telling him everything was okay now. He had nothing to be afraid of anymore. "Two months ago, when Laura's body was found, Scott and I were in the woods, and he got bit. By Peter. Who's a werewolf."

The silence between them was heavy. Lydia squeezed her eyes tight, collecting herself as best she could. "You're not lying to me, are you," she stated.

Stiles shook his head. "You deserve to know."

"Am I-?" her voice cut off, unable to ask the question.

"I don't know," he told her truthfully. "I don't know."

X

In the morning, Stiles got moved to his own room to recover. Two days later he was released. When his dad first came to see him after waking up, Stiles picked up on his heartbeat and scent before he even entered the room. Stiles was still weak, although his senses seemed to have kicked into overdrive. He was sure he turned, but he wasn't quite right. He noted the dark bags under his dad's eyes and utter relief on his face. "Sorry I broke my promise," Stiles said.

The Sheriff pulled Stiles into a careful hug. Stiles held in his tears as he breathed in the scent of his father. It was warm and crisp like apple butter on toast. It smelled like family and comfort and love and Stiles nearly melted into it. "Derek told me," he said. Stiles was shocked by this but his dad explained it all. "He walked into the hospital while I was still here, carrying my son who had a new injury. After you got sent to the ICU, of course I ripped him a new one. It wasn't until I mentioned you saying something about telling me _everything_ everything-"

"Why do I think it was something more than a mention?"

"-that Hale pulled me and Melissa aside and laid out the whole truth. He directed me to his old house where Kate was with the pendent."

Stiles pulled back from his father. "And- and you're okay with…?"

His dad placed his hands on either side of Stiles's face and looked him square in the eye. "You're my son. Just add this to the bucket of shit I deal with you, okay?" he said with a half-smile. The Sheriff swallowed thickly, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "I love you, kid."

It turns out, after Derek told the Sheriff what had really happened, Scott by his side as witness, Mr. Stilinski paid a visit to the Argent household. _"You don't go after my son,"_ he had told them, _"in fact, you don't go after anyone. That's not your job, but mine. If you stay in this town and anything supernatural happens, maybe we'll work together because you have expertise I don't. But you don't kill anybody. You hear me?"_

The Argents agreed. This was now the Sheriff's domain. They supplied him with wolfsbane bullets and with information on how to keep Stiles safe. They wanted to keep an eye on Derek, make sure he didn't go off the deep end, so they'd be staying, at least for now. 

"I feel better knowing what it is I need to look out for," he told Stiles.

"I didn't want anyone to go after you because of me."

"Sorry kid," he said, kissing the top of Stiles's head. His hair had begun to grow out already. It didn't take long to get long. "I'm the dad. I take care of you."

Stiles was let out when determined fit by Melissa. They signed some forms and he went home. Melissa was the only one who knew the marks on his body had completely disappeared. Lydia, he was told, unable to see her, still needed another few days of observation. When he got home, Derek and Scott were waiting for him.

Scott quickly enveloped him in a hug. It was tight and strong and it didn't bruise, but Stiles was still lacking the energy to hug back with his full amount of gusto. Derek stared on like a deer caught in headlights, like he couldn't believe Stiles was real, that Stiles was alive. When Scott let Stiles go, Stiles stumbled over to the alpha, _his alpha_ , and wrapped his arms around him. It was loose and soft and Derek tentatively paced his arms around Stiles's shoulders. It was nothing like hugging Scott, but it was just as powerful. "Thank you," he whispered before pulling away and collapsing into the nearest chair.

"We need to talk about pack," Derek said after clearing his throat.

Stiles nodded, expecting as much, and asked his dad for something to eat. "Sure, kiddo, but I'm still a part of this conversation." Stiles gave a weak smile and nodded. The Sheriff kept the kitchen open to the living room so he could hear everything as he fixed them all sandwiches.

Derek shifted uncomfortably and sat down across from Stiles. "Your body's still fighting off Peter's bite," he said ruefully. Stiles shrugged, figuring as much. He couldn't move easily, weighted down and tired, always so tired. "But you're still a beta. I can smell it." Scott nodded in agreement and came to sit next to Stiles. "I've talked it over with Scott," the aforementioned huffed disapprovingly of the term 'talked', but Derek ignored him, "and we need to discuss me being your alpha."

"Yes," Stiles said. It was firm, not a yes we need to discuss, but yes, _you'll be my alpha._

"Just like that?" Scott balked.

Stiles turned to his best friend and gave a look clearly saying 'are you stupid'. "He saved my life, Scott. I trust him. We know he's not the best teacher but he's the only one who knows about this stuff so yeah, I'm in his pack."

Scott looked down like a kid caught lying to his parents for the first time, ashamed almost. The Sheriff's voice cut in from the kitchen, although none of the people in the living room needed him to speak up. "So what does being pack _mean_ , exactly?"

Derek tried to explain. Every time he opened his mouth it felt like ashes and his tongue cotton balls. "Pack means it's my job to protect them," he said finally, looking the Sheriff dead in the eye from where he was entering with a plate of sandwiches. "We help each other."

"Pack is family," Stiles stated simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Derek looked over, catching Stiles's eye and swallowed dryly. "Yeah, that's it exactly." Derek could feel the way his poker face fell, his eyes an open wound, open and vulnerable. He couldn't seem to help it. Derek cleared his throat and looked away.

It should have been shameful for Derek to look away, to back down as if he were submitting to Stiles, but he couldn't help it. The kid's eyes were just too deep to stare at. Derek took a sandwich when offered with a muttered thanks, shifting in his seat. When he had told the Sheriff everything, well, almost everything, things changed between them. After holstering the gun he pulled upon first seeing Derek transform, it was as if the Sheriff lost all previous judgment and suspicion. It was like Derek was the 16 year old kid being pulled out of class that Deputy Stilinski had to tell the tragic news and watch as Derek refused to cry in front of a stranger. The Sheriff was treating him like an old friend, or maybe a lost child who needs a guiding hand.

"I need a third," he announced, his eyes fixed on the sandwich sitting on the coffee table before him. "A pack needs at least three betas to be stable."

There was a silence, only broken by the slow chew of someone trying not to make noise while they ate. Eventually Stiles spoke up. "Who?"

"There's," Derek started, not sure of himself, "there's an omega in town I caught wind of. If I can pin him down and talk to him then, maybe…" he ran a tired hand over his face. He needed to shave, Derek thought idly. Derek couldn't explain why, but he was just so tired since becoming an alpha. He wondered if it was Stiles, Derek's energy still trying to battle out Peter's in the boy's body. Or maybe it was just the drama of the last two months catching up to him. He didn't know.

"That grave robbing I was called to this morning?" the Sheriff asked incredulously. He watched on as Derek sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. " _That_ was a werewolf. Of course it was. Why am I even asking? How am I supposed to write that off," he grumbled.

"What happened?" Stiles asked, perking up a bit.

"Stole someone's god damn kidney!"

"He did?" both Derek and Stiles asked. "Gross," Scott commented, putting his sandwich down. Derek heaved a sigh. "I can't take him then. I won't."

"Why not?" Scott asked.

Derek glanced to the Sheriff quickly, who was eying him. "He ate the kidney." Scott made a gagging sound. "He's doing his best to not kill, but he's turning feral. An actual risk to being an omega," he directed to Scott. "Joining me," he continued, "could help him, but he can't be a part of the cornerstone that stabilizes us."

Stiles side-eyed Scott, who had been perpetually checking the time on his phone. Everyone seemed tired and done with this conversation for now. Continuing talking wouldn't get them anywhere. Besides, he was so exhausted. You'd think Stiles hadn't just spent the last week sleeping in a hospital. Stiles looked over at Derek who was boring a hole in the food he wasn't eating.

"Okay, well, good chat. I'm going to sleep," Stiles announced. He struggled to stand but made it without too much effort. "You," he said pointing to Scott, "go have your tryst. You're barely paying attention anyway." Derek growled a little under his breath at the half mention of Allison. "You," Stiles continued, pointing to his alpha, "calm down and let Scott make his own mistakes. You can protect him later. Right now he's still on the fence about even liking you." Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles could take in so much _more_. Derek's scent shifted, and he wasn't sure how. There was something more than annoyance. "And you," Stiles said, pointing to his father. The Sheriff raised one eyebrow daringly and crossed his arms. "Thank you for the food," Stiles concluded. "Now get me to bed."

Scott gave Stiles a quick hug before dashing out to sneak an hour or two with his star-crossed lover. Derek hung back though, just watching.

The Sheriff gave a look to Derek which clearly read 'stay put we have more to discuss' before turning to his son. "Stiles, I lied to you earlier." Stiles scrunched his brow and opened his mouth to ask but his dad beat him to the punch. "Lydia's not at the hospital."

"What?" he asked confused.

"Last night, after you had gone to sleep, she was getting cleaned up and was going to be released, when she apparently…" he trailed off.

" _WHAT?_ " he shrieked, panicking.

"She apparently climbed out her window and is roaming around the woods. I already asked Derek to try to find her, he said her scent tapered off in the woods. We don't know what happened to her."

Stiles heart rate picked up, his mind racing with all the possibilities. "Is this because of the bite? What did it do to her?"

He could feel the panic building, grasping him from the inside the way his boa would squeeze the life out of the rats he fed it. Suddenly, Derek was in front of him, one hand cupping his neck and the other having taken one of Stiles's hands and placing it over Derek's own heart. His eyes were alpha red and his scent was overpowering due to the sudden proximity. It was calming. Stiles tuned into the rhythm of Derek's heart and focused in on the smell of Derek which he couldn't seem to pinpoint. It was heady and rich and spicy like chai maybe. But it was strong and brought him down from the sheer panic of what was happening to Lydia.

When he calmed down enough that Derek took away his hands, Stiles caught the sound of his father's heart beating double time. He looked over to see the Sheriff staring wide eyed, mouth agape. "Dad?"

The man shook his head and blinked a few times. "You, uh," he waved his hand over his face a few times, shock still reading from his eyes. He gulped and let out a deep breath and gave Stiles a smile. "Guess there's no more deluding myself," he told them.

Stiles felt guilty about scaring his dad and slightly disappointed he hadn't even known he shifted. But, more than either of those, he felt sick. "Dad?" he said again, a little more empty. He only didn't hit the ground because Derek caught him when he fainted.


	3. The Pack

Derek carried Stiles to his bed and set him down over the covers. "Is he okay?" his father asked gravely from the door. It wasn't the first time he asked, but he sounded calmer now, his heart the steady thrum of a worried parent.

"His body is fighting itself," he told the Sheriff. "My bite is trying to keep him alive while Peter's is still trying to kill him. I can't really tell you anything more. Nothing about this situation is normal." Derek pressed his palm into his sternum and grimaced. When Stiles fainted, Derek could feel a pull of his energy going out to the boy. He had turned, or was turning, but it was taking everything the both of them had to get rid of the infection. "I wasn't even sure biting him again would work."

"Come on," the Sheriff said, gesturing away from the bedroom. Derek followed him back to the living room and took a seat at the man's request. "This pack thing," the man started, "I want updates. And know that you may be the alpha, but Stiles is still my son. Anything concerning him, concerns me, okay." It wasn't a question. The man gave a more intimidating glare than when he had interrogated Derek after Laura's murder. The Sheriff gave Derek an appraising look and loosened his stance. "Look, kid-,"

"I'm not a kid," Derek interjected. He could feel the scowl on his face deepen and hoped he wasn't pulling some face that made him look like a whiny brat.

"No," he conceded, "you're not. You're a twenty-two year old who should be finishing up college this term instead of looking after petulant teens. You're an adult by all legal standards, but I can see it when you look at my son." Derek quirked his head up, confused. "You saved his life, and for that I will always be thankful, but Jesus, kid," he glared down the forthcoming protest, "you stopped growing up after that fire."

Derek looked at the Sheriff in shock for a moment before his lip curled back in a sub vocal snarl. No one said things like that to Derek. In fact, the only people to ever bring up the fire to his face were hunters. Even Laura left the subject alone after the first few tries.

"I can't say I know how hard you've had it," the Sheriff continued unperturbed, "but losing someone you love changes you. And that fire changed you into the man I arrested, despite being innocent. But when you look at my son I see the kid that never got a chance to grow up behind your eyes."

After a few beats of silence, Derek stood and cracked his neck, breathing deep to keep himself under control. "The full moon isn't far away. He should be with me during that time." The Sheriff nodded solemnly, letting the change of subject go. Derek left without another word.

Not two minutes later there came a knock on the front door. The Whittemore kid who brought Lydia to the hospital stood on his front porch, shifting on the balls of his feet and looking unsure of himself. Not even when he had the kid shoved into a wall and yelled at him did the boy blanche, so to see him like this was disturbing.

"Um, Mr. Stilinski?" he asked.

"You're Jackson, right?" he responded after letting the boy sweat for a few seconds. The blonde boy nodded curtly.

"Is it-, I heard Stiles was released and I wanted to know if I could talk to him."

The boy seemed so earnest, John would normally have just sent him right up, but Stiles was down for the count. "Maybe tomorrow," he told him.

"Dad-," Stiles's voice came from the top of the stairs. "It's okay."

He let the boy find his way to Stiles room and settled down for a drink. It was already a long night, and it was only just past noon.

X

Jackson stood awkwardly inside of Stiles's room. He wasn't sure why he came, why he felt he needed to talk to Stiles. He never liked him, not that Jackson liked many people, but he still saw the scrawny kid almost die. And now Lydia was missing. And he felt like he shouldn't care, but he did.

"You just gonna stand there all day?" Stiles asked, having crawled on top of his bed. The guy looked wrecked.

"You turned?"

Stiles let out a sigh and pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes. "Yes?" He looked back to Jackson and gestured for him to take a seat in the computer chair. "I can hear better, smell better," he told Jackson. "But I'm super weak. I panicked a bit earlier and apparently shifted, but just that small act made me pass out." Jackson sat down, taking in the information. "I overheard Derek talking to my dad," he admitted. "I might still be dying."

Jackson was admittedly freaked. "I was," he began and took a shaky breath. "When I found out I was going to try and become one. But then I saw you and that black stuff coming out of your mouth and… I don't want to die."

"Glad to know you care about me," Stiles rolled his eyes with the comment. "But seriously," he continued, "why would you even want this?"

Jackson scoffed, picking a pen off Stiles's desk and messing with it, just to give himself a distraction. "Better speed, agility, strength."

Stiles just looked at Jackson and shook his head. He listed all the things Stiles still seems to be missing. "You're already the best on the team, Jackson."

"McCall-,"

"Scott needed to get a supernatural booster to reach your level. He's a freaking creature of the night and he still messes up. You have actual ability to do what you do. Don't tell Scott, but that's cooler than having such a huge natural advantage as super powers."

Jackson clenched his jaw and pushed the pen away from him on the desk. He needed to be the best, though. How could he be the best if people had superpowers?

"If you really want it," Stiles continued, "talk to Derek. We need a third, anyway. But you have to know that being bit means being pack. It means being part of a team where you're not captain and you may become stronger than your friends, but you, me, and Scott are like the pee wee league of werewolves."

Jackson wanted to snarl and it was comical because Stiles was the werewolf. God, what had the world come to when Stiles was a werewolf. Without looking at him, Jackson stood and headed to the door. "Yeah, whatever."

"I never wanted this," Stiles told him, before he made it out of the room. "And neither did Scott. But now that I have it I know I have to take everything that comes with it. Just-," Stiles blew out a long breath. "Just make sure you know what comes with it." He watched Jackson go without another word.

Maybe ten minutes later, his dad was leaning against the door frame and watching Stiles fondly and perhaps a bit worriedly. "You know," he began, "It's Kate Argent's funeral this afternoon."

"It is?"

"Yeah."

Stiles let that sit for a minute or two. "Scott's probably watching in the sidelines for Allison."

"Probably," his dad agreed. John sighed and gave a sad smile. "I don't want to leave you, kid, but I have to go work security. I'll keep an eye for Scott, though."

Stiles nodded, understanding. "Thanks."

X

Stiles fell asleep when his father was gone and woke up late that night when Scott scrambled into his window, too excited and disturbed to wait to tell him everything that had happened.

When trying to track Lydia, Scott found the Omega, who then got captured and Derek pulled him out of the way just as Chris showed up along with Alison's grandfather, Gerard. "He was creepy as shit, dude," Scott whined, still flustered from the excitement. "I wish you were there because you would have thought his whole super villain style monologue was hilarious, but you probably would have spoken up which wouldn't have been good because dude the dude killed the dude!"

"What?" Stiles asked, having only caught part of Scott's quick paced ramble.

"Allison's grandfather took out a fucking _sword_ man. And Chris then told him about how your dad knows about werewolves and as Sheriff claimed any crimes committed by them are under his jurisdiction but creepy grandpa said he didn't care because werewolves were vermin that killed his daughter and sliced the dude in half!"

Stiles felt panic build inside him. He didn't want to die. He just scraped death. He didn't want to die.

"He _what_?" a new voice cut in.

The boys froze, faces draining of color. You'd think with two pairs of super senses, they would have noticed when the Sheriff arrived.

"Mr. Stilinski!" Scott meeped. The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and Scott gulped. "Nothing." John tiled his chin down to glower a bit harder and Scott cracked and retold the entire story.

Stiles watched as his dad took in the information. His shoulders tightened and his jaw clenched a bit. Stiles noticed the way his dad's nostrils flared at certain moments of discomfort and the way his heart stuttered in anger. When Scott was done talking, he cowered a bit, ashamed under the gaze of Stiles's dad.

"I deal with this in the morning," the Sheriff said. "I'll need to figure out what to tell the deputies and how I'm going to," he waved his hand in front of his face. "But rest assured, he won't do anything to you. In the meantime, don't bring attention to yourselves, okay?"

The boys nodded. Stiles was already feeling tired again, but he could feel his pulse racing under his skin.

Stiles's dad looked at Stiles and gave a tired smile. "I came up here to tell you we found Lydia. She's safe and the doctors say she's fine. In some sort of fugue state, or whatever. P.T.S.D. type stuff, I don't know." He shook his head and frowned a bit. "She's not..?" He gestured to the two of them.

Stiles shook his head. "I don't think so," he admitted. "She healed normally. But, who knows." He looked down at himself. No one said anything else.

X

Derek was holing up in the abandoned bus depot off of Wells, trying to figure out what he's going to do about Gerard and hunters without a code. This was bad. He'd have to stay in hiding and hope there's no confrontation. In reality, Derek was just tired. He didn't want to fight, but he would if he had to.

The clunk of footsteps coming down the rusted metal stairs caught his attention, freezing him in place and readying for an attack. He sniffed the air and relaxed minutely when he recognized the scent of the Lahey boy he had pulled out of the grave the night before. There hadn't been a way for Derek to shirk the fact that he had single handedly lifted the crane or that Isaac had spotted what looked human digging up a body but heard definite growls. Besides, he was a smart kid. Isaac had asked _what are you_ but Derek hadn't answered, zeroing in on the black eye and the scent of more bruises hidden under his clothes but no touch of the omega he was chasing. Derek scared the kid when he asked who had been beating him up and telling him where to find Derek if he ever wanted to be able to defend himself.

He hadn't brought it up earlier to the others, although he should have. The idea of turning someone after Stiles scared him. He wasn't sure he could do it.

His mind quickly changed when Isaac _showed_ him the injuries on his torso. Derek always thought his life was cruel due to losing the people he loved, but he couldn't fathom the person who was supposed to love and protect him the most doing the things Isaac described with shaky breaths and tear filled eyes. Derek got the impression the kid had never told anyone this before.

Isaac's voice grew colder, fiercer, with every word, trying to reign himself back in. "I'm done being weak," he said. "And you're not weak. Whatever it is you are, you're not weak. But you can help me?" He sounded so hopeful, so scared and lost.

"I'm a werewolf," he told Isaac bluntly. "You have to want it," he said sometime later, after explaining about the hunters, about Stiles and Scott, about pack and family and knowing there were risks involved. "You have to want it, all of it. Not wanting what you have now isn't enough."

Isaac rolled his shoulder back and Derek saw past the scared boy who had walked in here. For the first time, Derek saw the person Isaac could become. "I want it."


	4. The Moon

It was a few days later that Isaac's father found himself in jail. Derek had come over to tell Stiles about Isaac. In turn, Stiles told his father about the abuse. There was enough proof in that house to have him incarcerated for years. Isaac was still terrified, though. Stiles didn't know a lot about psychology, but he could understand why the fear was still there. The idea that Mr. Lahey could come back and punish Isaac more for standing up for himself is strong, no matter the situation and how safe they truly are.

Although he was still afraid of his father, Isaac had taken to the bite better than Scott. Stiles wouldn't admit out loud to being jealous, but he felt it. He could barely move about his house without feeling dizzy. It was the day of the full moon, and Stiles hoped that weakness changed. He hadn't gone back to school yet, but Lydia came over at 2:30 which meant she came over right after it let out. "Hey?" he said, answering the door. "Surprised to see you," he said truthfully. Although, he probably shouldn't be. He knew how smart Lydia was. She probably wanted more answers than what he gave her back in the hospital.

At first, she complained about her first day back, about the looks people gave her and the way Jackson seemed to be avoiding her. "You have to come back," she pleaded. "Give them someone else to ogle."

Stiles gave her a tired smirk. "I'm sure you enjoyed the attention."

"Attention, yes," she said matter of factly. "Odd looks like I'm the weirdo reject, no. No offense."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Stiles rolled his eyes and lolled his head in Lydia's direction. "You're okay, though. Right? I freaked when I heard about you missing."

Lydia sighed and looked away, an unsureness about her that was completely alien. "I don't remember what I was doing. I've never blacked out like that before."

Stiles took her hand in his. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah."

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, which Stiles's dad answered, having gotten home an hour before Lydia arrived. Scott and Isaac entered, the latter looking twitchy but still giving the Sheriff a semi grateful smile. "Lydia!" Scott said in surprised before furrowing his brow. "You know, it might be smart if you come with us," he muttered.

Lydia narrowed her eyes , her lips thinning in calculation. "Go with you _where_?"

"To Derek's," Stiles supplied, getting to his feet carefully. "And Scott's right. You should come with us. We still don't know how Peter's bite affected you, and it's the full moon tonight." He caught the way Lydia's heart did a double blip, her face not betraying any inner turmoil.

"Right," she said tersely. "Werewolves."

X

They arrived at the abandoned depot plenty early for the night. Derek examined Lydia as she stood still with a flippant expression. "She smells human," he told them. There weren't any signs as to her having transformed, unlike Stiles. "I've never seen anything like this," Derek admitted, crossing his arms and frowning deeply. "It might not be safe for you to be here, if any of them get out of control, but…" he trailed off.

"But if I _do_ turn into something, it would be best to do it under proper supervision," Lydia concluded, not happy about any of this.

Derek explained anchors to them, how they help tie you to humanity. Stiles had stumbled upon this concept when helping Scott, realizing it was Allison for him. "It's not supposed to be," Derek gritted through his teeth. "Attraction is too basal of an emotion, can be too easily transferred to the wolf part of you."

"You can say the same thing about pain," Lydia quipped. "So really, you're just countering yourself." Derek growled lowly at her before continuing on his tirade. Lydia made frank remarks occasionally, refusing to flinch when she struck a nerve in Derek.

Scott, who was somewhat in control of his shit, and Stiles, who was so weak he couldn't handle much pain, took the less extreme of the restraints. They tied down Isaac first, and moonrise neared. Stiles second, chained to the bus seat he was in, and Scott third. Lydia watched on in horrid fascination.

Then they waited. Isaac felt it first, the pull of the moon forcing a shift from him like a root canal without anesthetic. He pulled against the restraints, his face contorting until his brow thickened and his jaw widened and his teeth sharpened and his eyes glowed. Lydia couldn't suppress every flinch his rattling chains and deep growls shook through her.

Scott felt it just the same, but his anchor held him fast.

Stiles grew warier with every passing minute, Isaac's noises behind him flicking in and out of his attention. His throat felt closed off, his vision blurring. He could zero in on the heartbeats around him, Isaac's thrumming like a rabbits, faster than even Lydia's, whose body was seeping fear. Derek and Scott's pulses were steady, but his… Stiles could feel his heart rate slow with every beat, the time between each pump of blood stretching further and further. He began to feel dizzy.

"Guys," he mumbled, forcing the words through his raw throat. "I don't feel so good."

He heard Lydia calling his name, then Derek's gruff voice calling out to him. An odd sense of déjà vu took over as Derek's calloused fingers griped his face, gently tapping his cheek to get him to open his eyes. Derek dropped his face, ignoring Stiles whimper, and raced over to Scott. The beta was beginning to panic over his friend, but Derek flashed his eyes and Scott stilled. "I need you to watch over Isaac," he commanded. "Are you in control enough to do that?"

Scott nodded with a throaty "yeah," knowing this was serious as Derek took off his restraints. Derek rushed back to Stiles where Lydia was hovering, terror on her face as the boy coughed up black goo.

"Shit," he said, trying not to panic himself. Lydia was demanding what happened. Derek wanted to ignore her, but the question rang through him all the same. He had no clue.

Derek kneeled between Stiles legs and grasped his face between his hands again. Stiles began to convulse under his touch, whining in pain his body began to shift and then drifted back to the human form. He looked over to Isaac, who was trying to hold onto his humanity, and back to Stiles, who looked at him with all too human eyes.

"Derek?"

His voice sounded so broken. Stiles's eyes began to flicker like a strobe light between the honey brown Derek normally saw and the bright gold he had only caught a glimpse of the other night. Stiles squeezed his eyes tight and opened them again, fully human. Derek wracked his brain for something, anything, not even knowing what attempts at soothing words were spewing from his lips. "It'll be okay," he heard himself say.

"Derek," Stiles said again, pleaded. Derek had a flash back to the night he killed Peter, when Stiles collapsed to the ground, dying. He remembered the words he told Stiles then, and hoped they only needed repeating.

"Don't reject this," Derek told him. "I know I told you how to hold onto your humanity, but just this once, Stiles. Please. Let it go. Accept the change. You need to change." When Stiles shifted in the Sheriff's living room, it had only gone so far as to flash eyes and elongate teeth. He hadn't fully shifted and yet it took everything out of him. Now, with the moon demanding a shift, his body was still too weak to comply because it was fighting so hard to deny this part of him. "You need to be a wolf, Stiles." He put his forehead against the boy's and breathed slowly, in time with Stiles's heart. "You have to take this, you have to be stronger than Peter, you have to want it. Stiles. Stiles, _please_."

He vaguely noted Lydia lace her fingers with Stiles, wincing when his nails shifted to claws but not letting go. Her voice joined with his, begging him to let the bite take over.

"Think of me," Derek instructed. "Think of the moon. Think of pack. Feel the change and don't resist it. Okay, Stiles? Don't resist it. Want it."

Stiles shivered, his body shaking, but his heart grew steadier, stronger, faster. Derek could feel the way his features changed beneath his hands.

Derek didn't know what he was asking. Scott couldn't hear it, his focus too distressed to realize anything than the surface situation. Isaac couldn't hear it, his struggle with humanity drowning out anything but the pull of the moon and the sheer panic rolling off his alpha, subduing his animalistic nature slightly. Lydia could tell, though, her mind connecting dots invisible to most. Stiles, his hearing tuning in and out, could hear only the moon, and nothing else.

All the while Derek's voice chimed in his ear, his breath ghosting over his lips, his heartbeat reaching out to Stiles, Stiles heard the truth.

Something released in his throat, his airway opening. The force of it all knocked his head back, Derek pulling away but never letting go. From deep inside, something grew and built like a geyser pushing to the surface until a roar of the beast split through the fangs that tore open his lips.

X

The next day, Stiles was alive. Stiles was bone tired, but alive. More alive than he felt in a long time. His heartbeat was stronger and he didn't fear fainting, and everything was crisp and clear to all his senses. He could take on the world if his body would cooperate. Despite everything, he was still weak, his muscles giving out on him the first time he tried to stand. He insisted on going to school, though.

Lydia gave him shy smiles throughout the day. When he woke up in the depot with Scott and Isaac and Derek, they had explained everything that happened. He barely remembered. His eyes had lingered on Derek, though, as if his figure held his memories. He was in Economics when he remembered. Yes, he had accepted what he needed to. He accepted Derek. Stiles made a fist and let it go, watching the fingers of his hand. When he concentrated, he could still smell the alpha on his own skin where Derek had touched him. He wondered if Derek even knew.

Lydia pulled him aside before lunch with another smile and Stiles could feel his heart swell as it did with each one, but it wasn't the same. She knew. He could see it in her eyes. "I didn't change," she said.

"We all changed," he replied, no longer referring to the full moon. They had all changed.

Everything had changed. He wanted to laugh. Of course, things had changed. He was a supernatural creature, he'd set a man on fire, he almost died, he couldn't climb the wall during gym class because his body was still too weak to do much more than shuffle around the hallways, _Jackson_ had come to _him_ for advice (possibly, maybe, that was still weird), he didn't think he was in love with Lydia Martin, and he quite possibly let himself be saved by Derek in a way neither of them could understand.

So, yeah, things had changed. After lunch, Stiles sat on the bleachers during gym class. Finstock barked orders about safety to the group for rock climbing and he was jealous and frustrated. Even the sight of Lydia wearing gym shorts and her usual bitch-face didn't do anything for him. He wanted to protect her. He felt this surge of warmth when she gave him the time of day, but it was like having watched her almost die, having almost died himself, having her be there for him last night, the band-aid on her wrist… it felt like he and Lydia were more blood brothers than he and Scott. She was like a sister, now.

He wanted to hit himself and roll his eyes and pout about the utter ridiculousness of it all. He finally got Lydia Martin, perfection on high heels, to notice him, and he couldn't feel anything for her. What was his life!? Stiles sighed, watching on as Allison beat Scott on the wall. One with werewolves and hunters and he still had to go to school and deal with hormones, apparently.

He watched as Erica Reyes froze up halfway through the rock wall and everyone gathered round as the coach tried to coax her down. She smelled off. Stiles could tell from across the room that she wasn't healthy, his nose zeroing in on her when he looked her way. He caught the sound of Allison reminding the Coach she had epilepsy. The knowledge made Stiles frown and his thoughts turn.

Later, after having felt her begin to seize from his classroom and then hearing about Scott being the big damn hero, catching her, Stiles made up his mind and texted Derek. **The bite cured Scott of his asthma, can it fix other things?** A moment later his phone buzzed. **Like what?** Stiles bit his lip. He wasn't sure how much becoming a werewolf had helped his ADHD, if at all, and that was an issue with brain chemical imbalance… although it's still technically undetermined. Either way, he's been taking his medication like normal. But, that wasn't the point. **Epilepsy?** There was a longer wait, but eventually Derek replied. **It should, yeah.**

Stiles kept accidentally tuning into people talking about Erica, about how she was brought to the hospital, about her mom, about how people thought seizing like that was funny, about previous seizures she'd had in school. He wondered briefly if he should ask Scott's opinion, but ultimately, it was Derek's pack. Stiles excused himself to the bathroom and called Derek.

"I have someone you might want to add to the pack," he said by way of greeting.

X

Derek walked into the hospital and asked for Erica Reyes at the front desk and then followed the signs to her room number. He waited around the corner until he knew her room was empty and slipped in. "Erica?"

Derek had thought about how to approach this a number of times on his way over. He had his cornerstones of a pack in place, he wasn't desperate. Still, he didn't want her to reject him. He didn't want to make a hunter out of a human.

"Yeah?"

He gave her a smile, a small one, an honest one. She was just a scared child, really. "What if there was a way for you to be cured?"

X

Deaton looked up from his notes when the bell over the entrance rang. "Mr. Stilinski," he said, taking in the appearance of the thin boy who was shifting nervously from side to side, "what can I do for you?" There was nobody else in his office at the moment. Scott wasn't due for work for another hour, either.

Stiles frowned and shifted the weight of his backpack. "I think," he paused to lick his lips, "I think something happened when Derek bit me, other than the whole, you know, lycanthropy thing."

Scott had told Deaton about Stiles's case when he was still in the hospital. Deaton frowned and thought it over for a moment. "There are a few possibilities," he admitted.


	5. The Vendetta

Erica took to werewolfdom like a fish to water. She could feel the way her body seemed to just work now. It was exhilarating, to say the least. Stiles, however, was still making his way to and from classes like a leper. She had heard the whole story of how Stiles got the bite, a cautionary tale of sorts. The bite could kill.

Stiles was jealous, though. He couldn’t help but be jealous. He didn’t want this, but it was his and yet everyone around him could actually use their powers. He was sulking in the lunchroom when Lydia sat down across from him. “Did you see that entrance?” she scoffed.

Stiles shrugged, his mouth smirking without his consent. “Well, she’s trying to become the N.H.B.I.C., and it certainly turned heads.” There were still a group of boys staring at the double doors like it was all a mirage. Lydia near snorted. Stiles looked up at that, really scrutinizing her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Her eyes looked tired and puffy. 

Lydia pulled her shoulders back as if to gain her full height. “I tried talking to Jackson,” she said steadily, “and he yelled at me.” There was obvious pain in her eyes as she fiddled with the chain around her neck. Stiles sputtered in confusion and slight outrage. No one hurts Lydia, no matter if his feelings are romantic or fraternal at the moment. She held up a hand and Stiles pulled his lips in to shut himself up. “He said he needs to take a step away from the supernatural and we are not getting back together because I am too closely tied to it all.” Her words were so matter of fact that Stiles frowned.

“You know,” Stiles began, “Scott had me bribe Boyd for the keys to the ice rink so he and Allison could go on a super-secret not date. You should come.” Lydia gave an unimpressed look, seemingly flawless despite her recently touched up make-up not completely hiding the fact she had cried. “Not like, a double date. I probably won’t even be able to make it onto the ice, but you should come. Get your mind off things.”

She narrowed her eyes, but it wasn’t meanly, just searching, curious. “You’re on, Stilinski.”

X

Allison pulled Lydia into a tight hug when she arrived at her house before going out that night, having only just heard about Jackson. Allison’s father had warned about Lydia, that he could make one special circumstance with Scott, but two was pushing it. Lydia had dutifully eavesdropped and then curtly told him “I am not a werewolf, Mr. Argent. Trust me, I was with them just in case I was, and I didn’t shift at all,” and then turned back into Allison’s room to reapply her lipstick.

Chris wanted to ask more, but Allison gave a sharp look and he backed off for now. On the way to the ice rink, Allison admitted to Lydia that her father had also warned them about Gerard. “He’s okay with breaking the rules we set up,” she told Lydia. Allison gripped her friend’s hand and looked into her eye. “Be careful.”

Lydia nodded, refusing to let her fear show. A few hours later, however, when they were on the ice, Lydia found herself screaming bloody murder. She could just make out Stiles yelling her name, calling her back to the land of the living. He was on the ice without skates, having slid over the moment she became distressed. When she came out of it, she was crying and trying her hardest to breath. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Stiles joked with a weary smile when Lydia’s eyes focused again. Lydia took in a few deep breaths, calming herself, giving a reassuring nod to where Allison stood, and Scott behind her. “You okay?” Stiles asked once she seemed fully in control of herself.

“I saw him,” she whispered, locking eyes with Stiles. “I saw Peter, under the ice, and he looked at me. And there was a flower.”

Stiles frowned. “Perhaps the bite did something to you after all,” he said, thinking of his discussion with Deaton earlier that week. 

“Like what?” Lydia asked a little hysterically.

Stiles shook his head and squeezed Lydia’s hand. She hadn’t noticed he was holding it until then. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “But we’ll figure it out.”

X

Stiles was in the bus station, telling Derek about Lydia’s hallucinations. He had her catalog everything she had seen. They had already determined the flower was a type of wolfsbane, something she hadn’t come across before outside of textbooks. She had no reason to associate them with werewolves. Scott was with Deaton going over the story, seeking the same answers.

“That’s not a normal hallucination,” Stiles concluded. Derek nodded, but didn’t know what it was. They discussed it some more before Derek got that constipated look that Stiles deciphered as trying to use his words but failing epically at opening his mouth and talking. “What?” he asked.

“I was outside the school, keeping watch over Erica and Isaac since they’re still new to the shift.” 

Stiles nodded a few times. “So becoming an alpha did nothing for your creeper tendencies. And?”

Derek gave him a hard look and rolled his eyes. “And that kid you were talking to, the one with the keys to the ice rink.”

After a few moments of waiting for more explanation Stiles blinked and then raised an eyebrow. “Was that a ..question?” he asked. Derek huffed and shifted in his seat and _whoa since when are we sitting so close, Derek’s hand is practically touching my thigh._ He didn’t pick anything up from Derek when he listened. He didn’t even seem aware of their proximity.

“I think he’d make a good addition. He’s solid, steady, level headed.”

Stiles thought of what he knew about Boyd. His first name was Vernon. He sat alone at lunch. He’d never seen kid outside of school or riding the Zamboni. He was a little shit when it came to paying him for the keys, but in a way Stiles could appreciate. He smelled like apricots and dark coffee grinds. He liked the smell. It was a good smell, if a little bitter. But not the bad bitter which felt cloying on his tongue, but rich and wise and maybe just a little sad. Stiles shrugged. 

“It’s your call, man,” he told Derek. “I’m okay with it, not that you need my permission. Just, you know, make sure he knows what he’s getting into, like with the others.” He saw Derek’s lip quirk briefly, like an acknowledgement or private comfort. “Anyway,” Stiles continued, having checked his watch, “it’s just past midnight and my dad’s working the dead shift. I’m gonna go bring him a midnight snack and then head off to bed.” He stood and brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes, more from nervous habit than being able to accomplish anything with the gesture. “Night, Derek.”

He was all the way to the door when he heard Derek’s soft reply. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

X

Matt Deahler’s fingers fidgeted with the unfamiliar weight in his hands. The gun’s bulky frame fit perfectly in the palm of his hands and the idea of killing shouldn’t feel so good. He knew that. But he had been stewing in hate for days. Ever since the high school’s old swim coach showed up in the background of one of his photos, all the rage and passion born out of fear from so many years ago resurfaced and he could _feel_ the boiling of his blood. This needed to be done, and no one was going to do it for him.

“Hey, kid. Where are you going?” a bored and bemused voice asked, snapping Matt out of his thoughts as he tried make his way past the front of the police station, the gun now resting safely in his coat pocket. He turned to see a young black woman in uniform with a tired and narrow look on her face glaring at him.

Matt pulled from his memory the sight of the familiar blue jeep sitting outside the station. “Stiles,” he answered, not batting an eye. “He texted me. He’s still a little weak and he knew I’d be up so he asked me to drive him home.”

The woman gave him a once over and shrugged. “Sheriff’s office is three doors down and to the right.” 

Stiles hadn’t heard his name being said in the front, too distracted by the smile on his dad’s face as he munched on curly fries. He may have put his dad on a diet and got him a veggie burger, but Stiles felt lenient on the fact that werewolves were a thing and his dad had to pull a few extra late nights this month, so he gave the Sheriff fries. There, unfortunately, hadn’t been any front in the Argent business yet. There was no evidence. The hunters knew how to clean their tracks. All the Sheriff could do was warn them again, this time Gerard to his face. “I don’t like the feel of that man,” he told his son. “I’m serious about be careful, laying low.” Stiles, for once, didn’t have any complaints. He didn’t want to survive the trials of the bite just to die because he was careless around something as dangerous as Allison’s grandfather sounded.

For now, though, they could relax. But both their smiles dropped when the shot rang. 

“Stay here,” his dad ordered, darting out of the room and shutting the door before Stiles could even make a sound of protest. He latched onto the sound of his father’s heartbeat and followed it to the source of the gunfire.

Stiles could feel his own heart begin to race, fear for his father overwhelming. He could smell smoke from the gun and blood, the same bitter taste to it that Stiles had sniffed when passing by the cell room earlier. Stiles had then barely suppressed a growl at Mr. Lahey. Now his scent clung to the air like a bitter temptation. Stiles raced behind his dad’s desk and pulled up the station’s security footage on the computer, muting it as to not give away his location. Stiles didn’t need the sound, he could hear just fine.

He recognized the kid from his History class, though on footage he looked crazed, Mr. Lahey bleeding out behind him in the jail cell. He could hear his dad and the other cops telling Matt to drop his weapon, the gun he still held and was waving between the three officers that had filed into the room. Stiles heart picked up again. Matt was unstable. Matt might shoot. Matt could shoot his dad. 

Stiles heard Matt blather an explanation, that Lahey had killed him, drowned him. That it was his fault and he deserved this. They all did, but him the most. Stiles didn’t really understand, but it didn’t matter. Stiles needed to do something, but he felt frozen to the spot, the adrenaline in his system doing nothing about the tiredness, the weakness of his muscles. He still had trouble walking.

Stiles smelled Derek before the alpha burst his way into the front of the station and into the security feed. He saw the way Derek’s nostrils flared. Somehow Stiles knew Derek was sniffing him out. “My dad!” he said, just above normal volume. Derek heard and Stiles watched from screen to screen as Derek made his way to the room where Matt was screaming, crying, pulling the trigger of his gun for the second time. 

It was the worst horror movie Stiles had ever seen, the screen detaching him from reality but his other senses reeling him in for a full experience. He barely even noticed his fingers had shaped themselves into claws, scrapping into the wood of his father’s desk. 

The second shot rang, the gun pointed at the Sheriff, but before any one of them could so much as pull their own trigger fingers in reflex, Derek had barreled in, knocking the deputies to the ground to get between the bullet and Stiles’s dad. Derek’s own scent heavy with the weight of blood, but Derek didn’t so much as yell in pain. The camera had difficulty capturing the speed and fluidity of the movements, but Stiles watched as Derek’s shoulder pushed back by the force of the bullet and then his whole body came forward, crowded Matt, ripping the gun from his fingers and twisting his hand until the bones broke with a sickening crunch, the kid’s screaming changing from one of crazed panic and rage to shock and pain. 

It was a few hours later that Stiles finally got to collapse into his bed. He refused to leave the office until his dad was off shift. An ambulance had been called long before Derek arrived and it left with Lahey and Matt and three armed police officers. There wasn’t enough room for Derek, whom the Sheriff promised to drive to the hospital personally. It was a good thing, because Derek’s shoulder was already healed and he was only “putting pressure on the wound” with his left hand to save face. The three of them were the only ones left in the station until more on call deputies arrived. 

“How did you know?” Stiles asked Derek as he was changing into one of his dad’s t-shirts. 

Derek shifted his gaze between Stiles and his father after pulling the loose grey shirt over his head, though it still stretched a bit over his chest. “I could just feel it. Your distress,” he answered, looking Stiles in the eye. Stiles couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He had spent twenty minutes hugging his dad after things cleared, burrowing his face into the junction of his neck and shoulder, reveling in the feel of his heartbeat from under his skin and the many pulse points he could touch. Now he hugged Derek, thanking him and burrowing his nose in the same fashion. He had taken a bullet for his dad, after all. 

“You ever think of joining the police?” John offered once Stiles had pulled himself away. “Can’t say there’s a higher recommendation than ‘this man saved my life’ I could give to the academy.” 

Derek honest to god blushed at the emotion coming from the Sheriff. Stiles could feel it too. Derek probably didn’t receive this much gratitude and love and warmth and pride. He should. Derek was a good person. But he probably didn’t. 

The answer was no, he hadn’t, but he’d told the Sheriff he’d think about it. It wasn’t until he saw both John and Stiles safely home and tucked in bed that Derek went back to the bus depot. Isaac was there, which didn’t surprise him. Child services had placed him with a local foster care until they could get a hold of some distant family member the kid admitted to never having met before and Isaac snuck out every night to stay with Derek. Looking at the curly haired teen, it wasn’t even a question. Derek would put in a request to gain guardianship in the morning. He told Isaac as much when he informed him his father had died on the way to the hospital. 

Derek was honestly surprised how hard it hit Isaac. “He may have done terrible things,” Isaac explained, “but he was once good. And he was still my dad.” He let the boy curl up to him that night, his cheeks never drying, even as he slept. His words resonated with Derek and he thought about Peter.


	6. The Ties

Derek actually ran into Gerard at the grocery store, of all places. It was a busy Saturday afternoon and the store was crowded. He couldn't do anything, neither of them could do anything. That didn't stop Gerard from making threats with carefully laid words. The man had taken control of the school. He had known Lydia and Stiles had been bitten. They had been in the hospital, the knowledge was unavoidable. Thankfully, their length of stay in the hospital and how long it took them to heal was enough to make the hunters wonder if either Stiles or Lydia turned. Gerard was keeping an eye on them, but he hadn't learned about Scott and even Chris didn't know about Isaac or Boyd. Derek could only assume the dramatic change in Erica gave them suspicions.

Scott couldn't understand why Derek had expanded the pack past the needed foundation. It was Stiles who answered before Derek could say something that would irk Scott more. The beta may have accepted Derek as his alpha, but there was still tension between them. "It's their choice," Stiles had explained. "It wasn't ours, but it's our life now. There's nothing wrong with that. It's okay for them to choose this." Scott, Derek thought, would never really understand, but it ended the subject of conversation.

Derek was still using the abandoned bus depot as a training ground for the new betas, although after meeting with people to discuss Isaac, he realized he needed a real address, so he was looking into finding an apartment or something. Stiles watched on, every afternoon when he couldn't be at lacrosse, as Boyd and Erica and Derek fought until Scott and Isaac showed up. They were all getting better. And Derek was right about Boyd. He stabled the pack by personality more than the 3 beta cornerstone rule did. Stiles may not have been able to participate, his body still barely letting him make it through the school day, but he spent his time texting Allison and Lydia.

Lydia, who was having less 'I see dead people' freak outs, was integrating herself into the Argent household. She never wanted to be helpless again. Stiles had also directed her to Deaton. He was teaching her his mystical 'I'm just a vet' ways. Allison was also getting on her grandfather's good side. She and Scott were 'separated', but they were still together, and Allison wanted to keep her friends safe. That meant not being kept in the dark, like she had been with Kate. She was being trained as a hunter and she was feeding Stiles all the information she could get a hold of.

"Lacrosse game tonight," Scott said cheerily after knocking Isaac to the floor. "Gotta be better than that."

Stiles wanted to throw up. Their budding broship irritated him, so he turned back to his phone. Lydia was complaining about her forced therapy session with Morrell earlier that day and the boy who was annoyingly hitting on her beforehand.

 **Was he cute?** He texted, sending a second without waiting for a reply. **Bc if yes, go for it. Shove it in jerkson's face.**

He tracked Boyd as he made his way over and sat down next to him. Stiles may not be able to fight with them, but his hearing and sense of smell was getting _very_ acute. He didn't even need to look up from his phone to know where all of them were, who was currently bleeding, etc. "You coming tonight?" Boyd asked. They were all planning on going to the game, it would be easier on Scott and Isaac to reign it in with other members there. Derek was holding back though, not wanting to risk running into Gerard and give his betas away.

Stiles sighed. "Somehow it's worse watching from the bleachers than from the bench even though I'm just as not-playing as I was before." When the other betas left for the game, it was just Derek and Stiles in the abandoned building, the latter of which still stared at his phone like it would solve all the problems they were facing.

Stiles listened as Derek made his way closer. If Stiles were still human, he wouldn't have been able to hear the soft footfalls, the silent breathing, and definitely not the steady thrum of the alpha's pulse. It was soothing, in a way. "What's wrong?" Derek asked, taking the seat next to Stiles that Boyd had just vacated.

"Lydia's not telling me something," he said, biting his lip. "She had marks on her hand today, like she punched something, glass maybe, and it scraped her up." Stiles sighed and stood, using the stair railing as a support. "Her freak outs aren't frequent but she's still having them."

Derek nodded, offering his hand to help Stiles. He looked at the offer warily. Stiles hadn't told Derek about his talk with Deaton, about why he may not be taking to the bite fully. It wasn't fair to ask of Derek. Just because the alpha didn't want Stiles to die didn't mean anything more, no matter what Derek had inadvertently done, had asked Stiles to accept when his body was still leaking black bile.

Stiles took Derek's hand and let himself be led to the mat Derek had set up at the side of the station. They settled down and Stiles told Derek everything he had gathered from Allison and Lydia over the past few days. He and Derek didn't talk every day, but this was becoming something of a routine. Stiles was the information man. He was okay with this, since he couldn't do much else. Stiles phone buzzed again and he swiped it open. **He was cute but a little creepy. Just ur type, right?** Stiles could feel the heat burn at his face. He hadn't exactly _told_ Lydia, but that girl was a genius. **YOU'RE my type ;)** he responded. The thing is, they both knew that wasn't true anymore.

"Um," Stiles cleared his throat, looking up to an expectant Derek. "Lydia's been working with Deaton. She's really good at figuring out his cryptic bullshit." Derek hummed with a barely contained eye-roll over the vet. "But, it looks like there are other creatures that go bump in the night," he said looking at Derek's expression for clues.

Stiles never had a problem seeing before, but he could pick out details like he never would have been able to. He saw the way Derek ever so briefly flicked his eyes to the left and the corner of his lip twitched downward. It happened so quickly a normal person wouldn't have even noticed Derek's face had moved at all.

"So that's a yes," Stiles surmised.

This time, Derek's lip-twitch was longer and more of an almost smile. "You're getting good at that."

"Thanks," Stiles smiled before steeling his face as best he could. "But stop deflecting."

"Try not staring so hard next time and see if you can catch the details," Derek suggested.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "So, other things that go bump in the night?"

Derek sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall, turning his phone over and over in his hands. "I don't really know much other than werewolves aren't the only things to actually exist, and most of my families library burned, so." He shrugged and then gave a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "The Argents probably know more than I do."

Stiles made a sound of acknowledgement and quickly texted Allison, asking if she knew about other possible creatures and where her family kept their info. She quickly got a response: **I'll ask.** Stiles loved how uncomplicated things were between him and Allison and their mutual sharing of knowledge so not to run into problems. They were smart about it too, plausible deniability and all that. Allison knew the pack had grown, she doesn't know who the members are. Stiles knows they've brought in a team of hunters, but Stiles doesn't know anything more than the number of men and when they're patrolling. Stiles and Lydia are told whenever they make wolfsbane weapons and what type of wolfsbane is used so they can make sure to have some handy in case of an altercation. Allison knows she won't be attacked as long as Scott 'lays claim to her'.

Stiles just hopes they never have to actually use their information, especially against each other.

"You're not okay," Derek says suddenly. Stiles snaps his head up, trying to read Derek. He still can't identify that scent as something other than _Derek_. Cinnamony but like warm milk and daffodils. Like sunlight and rain and god it was frustrating that he couldn't just _label_ it because none of those scents were right. Stiles needed to make a scent catalog, he decided.

"No," Stiles agreed, "I'm not." He heard the subtle inhalation that was a prelude to speaking but Derek never opened his mouth. "Of course I'm not," Stiles continued. "I can barely make it through the day, just walking around school and keeping my senses in control, without collapsing in utter exhaustion by the time I reach home. There's a crazy geriatric in town who feels no qualms against killing teenagers if they're werewolves and _my dad_ has talked to him about it, putting him on a potential shit list. Lydia is slowly becoming one of my best friends just in time for me to lose all romantic feelings for her because my life is a cosmic joke, _and_ she's having psychotic episodes that I can do nothing about. My best friend is in a supernatural version of Romeo and Juliet and we all know that ends in everyone dying and I'd really rather not."

Stiles didn't realize his lungs were restricting painfully and his words were rasping against his throat until Derek was holdings his wrists in one hand and placing the other against Stiles's chest, right over his heart. "Stiles," Derek said sharply, calmly, his voice tinged with an alpha command. "Breathe." It was amazing for Stiles how quickly he was able to snap out of his budding panic attack with Derek helping him. _Fuck_ , Stiles thought to himself.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Guess that was building for a while."

Derek shook his head, slowly letting go of Stiles and resuming his previous seat. "Nothing to apologize for."

X

Allison has long ago tired of being a weak little girl. She's always had her struggles with being as strong as she wanted to be (strong minded, strong willed, strong bodied, strong stomach) but she also knew she wasn't weak. Not anymore. Especially with all the training she was receiving. The idea of what she was learning made her queasy, but she also knew she would take over, eventually. And she could change things. And she could use her knowledge to _protect_ people, protect packs from people like her aunt. Protect Scott from people like her grandfather. Protect Lydia from people who will only see the bite and not the person, protect her from people who would kill her even when she wasn't a werewolf, let alone hurt anyone. Protect herself when the backlash of being in love with a werewolf hit her.

She played the role of dutiful daughter and budding huntress to a T. Her parents questioned, but never in front of Gerard, and never the right questions. She was honest in saying she wanted to learn. Luckily, other than Gerard running into Derek in a super public place, nothing had happened. He didn't even question her motives to know about other creatures and the Argent history. "I never want to be caught unawares again," she said when asking, and that was enough for him. He told her about the bestiary, but nothing about where he kept it. "That'll be for later," he told her, "must finish your current studies first."

Strategy came first. How to be a good leader for war. It turned her stomach, but she was okay with that. Allison knew she'd never have a stomach of steel like Aunt Kate, and she was glad for it. It would keep her human, because Kate was more of a monster than Scott ever would be. Allison's disgust in what her grandfather was planning was enough to keep her sane. She texted Stiles, told him there was a bestiary, but that was all she knew at the moment, then immediately deleted it from her phone. Her parents checked on her too often.

Allison talked to Gerard about the bestiary, about her training, about anything that would get his eyes off the game as they sat next to each other on the bleachers. He claimed needing to support the school as the new principal. She knew he was scouting out for betas. "Why do you think Derek would be turning high schoolers?" Allison asked, making sure the people around her couldn't hear. "I mean, he's in his twenties, right?"

Gerard patted her knee with a sly wink that gave her goosebumps. "It's easier to turn a teen, I've been told. Bodies not so fragile as children's, not so set in their ways as adults. More of a chance for success."

Allison scrunched her brow, looking out for Scott on the field. "But, Peter bit at least two people and it nearly killed both of them. Stiles went into a coma and both he and Lydia took at least a week to heal. A werewolf doesn't take that long, right?"

Her grandfather's face contorted into something sinister. "There's something wrong with both of them, though. Perhaps they're not werewolves, but they're not human, which makes them dangerous." Allison didn't agree, but she only nodded in response.

Despite her attempts at distraction, Scott still found himself invited over for dinner for scoring the winning goal. It was just as awkward as she could have imagined.

X

"You're getting the hang of it," Derek reassured Stiles as the boy slumped against the wall.

"Oh, yay, I can change my hands and flash my eyes voluntarily now and only feel like I'm going to throw up a little instead of full on passing out," Stiles griped. He ran a tired hand over his face and groaned. "I'm never going to be better, Derek. I'm never going to be normal and I'm never going to be anything other than _this_."

"Yes, you are," Derek snapped, tired of this argument. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes to the beta. He could feel Stiles pulling energy from him after every attempt at shifting. He wasn't sure the boy was aware he was doing it. But they needed to keep trying. With every siphoning of his power over to Stiles, the teen pushed out more of Peter's poison. It was slow going, sure, but it was working. He could _feel_ it. Derek could feel Stiles, more connected to him than any of his other betas. The power exchange stirred something in him, but it was… nice. And he didn't like the way Stiles sounded like he was still going to die.

Derek walked over to where Stiles sat slumped against the concrete, breathing steadily into his hands as a way to calm himself. "Stiles," he said, crouching down and placing a hand over Stiles's fists. "We'll fix this. And when we do, you'll probably be the strongest beta."

Stiles laughed dryly. There were tears forming in the corner of his eyes as they fluttered, Stiles taking a shaky breath. Derek wondered what it was that Stiles smelled. The boy's senses were proving to be stronger, more sensitive than even Derek's. All Derek could parse was the salt of his tears, the rich haze of _Stiles_ and _sick_ that had been clouding him since he turned, and the stench of mold coming from one of the far corners of the building. Derek could see that Stiles was analyzing something deeper than that though.

"It doesn't work that way, Derek," he finally said, his voice choked with unshed tears. "I know. I talked to Deaton. I _know_ how to fix this. But I can't. I – you. It's not something I can just do or just take." One of the tears escaped as Stiles squeezed his eyes in frustration, rolling down his cheek. "Because, it's not just about me."

Derek's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Peter?" he guessed, but Stiles just shook his head, rubbing at his eyes feverishly.

"You," he said softly, not meeting Derek's gaze. "You have to want it."

He felt his own heart do a double flip at Stiles's words, but he wasn't sure why. They didn't make sense. Of course he wanted it. He wanted Stiles to be pack, he wanted Stiles to live. That was why he bit him after turning alpha. "Want what?"


	7. The Bond

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes, searching desperately. The alpha's face was open and raw like he had never seen it before. He gulped nervously and licked his lips, trying to block the way Derek smelled of hot tea and dark chocolate and  _fuck_ because none of those were  _right_ , but they were quite overpowering at this distance. Stiles couldn't ask Derek this, because he was beginning to know the guy, and he would give it, or try to.

His phone began buzzing incessantly in his pocket.  _Saved by the bell_ , he thought, pulling it out and pressing the accept call button when he saw Scott on the caller ID. He would have answered even if it were a telemarketer, to be honest. Anything to get away from this confession. "Hey man, Boyd said you guys won." He had been getting texts all night from the pack. Scott's voice came in as a panicked jumble. Even with his super senses, Stiles couldn't quite follow what Scott was saying. "Slow down, man! Slow. What? What happened? Where are you? Derek and I will be right there." He was already being pulled to his feet by said alpha, Stiles's free hand clasped around Derek's. He tried not to think about the contact and focused on Scott, who was talking more sense now.

"My  _mom_ , Stiles. She's fine now, but he threatened her! "

"From the beginning, Scott."

There were sounds of deep breaths coming from the other side, and pacing. Stiles had a feeling Scott was in his bedroom. He listened harder through the static and sure enough there was the dull tick of his wall clock that shook before clicking off the next second. Good, Scott was home and hopefully safe. Since turning, Stiles had found out that Scott's was quite a distinct clock. Stiles also couldn't sleep with analog clocks in his own room anymore.

"Gerard," Scott said, as Stiles and Derek made their way out of the depot and into the Camaro. "He invited me to dinner after the game and I couldn't say no and he seemed like he didn't know during dinner, but he  _knows_ , you know. And then I went to pick up my mom and  _thank god_  I had that as an excuse to leave, but he followed me and  _fucking stabbed me in the stomach_  while threatening  _my mom!_ "

"Okay, fuck,  _fuck_ ," Stiles sputtered, not knowing what to say, his mind whirling too fast to pin down words. He clutched the door's handlebar as Derek made a sharp turn and spat out another profanity into the phone.

"No,  _Stiles_ ," Scott's voice cracked over the line, still sounding anxious and worried, but oddly excited. "This is a good thing. Not a _good_ thing! But," Scott continued to ramble about how Gerard was crazy and a killer and threatening perfectly ordinary humans to get leverage over Scott and not getting to the point where-

"HOW THE HELL IS THIS A GOOD THING!?" Stiles yelled over his friend's rambling. Very rarely were their situations reversed like this, but Stiles dealt with Scott the same way Scott dealt with Stiles.

"I recorded it," he finally said, just as Derek turned onto Scott's street. "The whole thing." There were sounds of footsteps running down stairs and Stiles watched as Scott burst out of his front door in time for Derek to pull up. As Stiles and Derek get out of the car, Scott ends the call and runs over to them. "See," he continues, "I've been thinking how your dad said we don't have evidence so I made the voice recording widget the easiest to find without looking and-," Scott pressed the app on his phone and Gerard's voice crackled back at them.

The three of them stood stalk still in the front of the McCall house as Stiles catalogued every word coming out of the tiny speaker of Scott's phone. "This is brilliant," he said, beaming. He grabbed Scott's face and gave a smack on his cheek. "We're taking this to my Dad. We're-," his face grew stern in a sudden shift of thought, "You're telling your mom," he said, "she can't have a target on her and not be aware about it." Stiles's features shifted again to a contemplative grimace. "We might want to bring Danny into the know because he's the only person I know who can figure out to edit out the werewolf bits without it looking tampered, but the police can totally use this as evidence," he concluding, growing excited again. "You're brilliant sometimes, you know that."

Scott ducked his head bashfully. Scott was struggling with school on top of all the werewolf business, not to mention Allison, but he wasn't a dumb guy. He just needed to hear that every once in a while.

They discussed more about telling Danny before Scott went in to talk to his mom as Derek drove Stiles and Scott's phone to the Stilinski residence so his dad could listen to the unedited audio. "I hate to ask," John said, after reviewing the recording, "but can you guys  _stop_ yourselves from healing?"

Derek answered, "not when we're unconscious, but yes. Why?"

The Sheriff looked haggard but there was a serious glint in his eyes. "Because if we edit this to avoid the fact that you're werewolves, we'd have to edit out the stabbing since Scott's already healed. But if we just clip the part where Gerard  _talks_ about the healing there's enough here to prove Gerard physically assaulted Scott.  _That_ is enough to put him away and reason to look further into him. The threats alone will only get him a warning and grounds for a restraining order."

"Which means we have to stab Scott again," Stiles concluded, frowning, "so we can have the police take pictures of the assault." He hummed in thought but then nodded sagely. "Scott'll do it. I mean, I once convinced him to jump off the shed roof, I'm sure a stabbing and delayed healing won't be too hard."

X

It was two days later, after they had gotten hold of Danny and filled him in, after the audio was edited and Danny asked about who else were werewolves and how it happened. Everything was explained so thoroughly Stiles felt he had gone through the grinder. That was when Stiles found himself cornered by Derek.

"I haven't forgotten," he said. "There's something wrong with you and there's something I can do to help, but I can't do that if I don't know how."

Stiles huffed. "Seems like you're finally learning a lesson about sharing information." Derek just glared until Stiles sighed and sunk further into the couch. "Sit," he groaned, gesturing to the chair. Stiles waited until Derek was fully situated before talking. "I talked to Deaton," he confessed , "and when you turned me, because of the circumstances, it was a two way thing." Stiles took in Derek's confused eyebrows and closed his eyes, not wanting to have this conversation. "The reason it worked was as much me wanting and accepting becoming a werewolf, turning because it was  _your_ bite, as it was you wanting me to survive. You wanted it just as much as I had to."

Derek stayed silent, waiting for the 'but.'

"I'm getting stronger," Stiles continued. "I'm getting around easier, I can shift for short periods of time without throwing up or fainting, although it drains me like nothing, and a part of it is Peter. Part of it is that it's like he's still alive and pulling me down but I'm pushing him out more as each day passes but," and he let out a groan on the side of a growl. Stiles's eyes flicked open and caught Derek looking at him, jaw tight and eyes worried and Stiles shut his eyes again.

"I don't really remember much," Stiles said, opening his eyes and watching his ceiling fan whirl in a steady hum. It used to be silent, but not anymore. "When you bit me, I was in so much pain and so delirious, I don't remember much." He sighed, "But I have this vague recollection of you asking me to want it. Want the bite. Want  _you_." He couldn't look at Derek, just kept his eyes trained onto the changing shadows from the fan. "And we could be wrong. Deaton said there were a few possibilities, but- but I wanted  _you_. Derek. You begged me to want you-," Stiles could feel his voice waver and he shut his eyes to the rotating fan panels and the tears threatening his eyes. "And the thing is I've always wanted you, even when I was still afraid of you."

Stiles could hear Derek's heartbeat, which had been steadily speeding up, jumping a little erratically at certain points. He heard the way his breath caught before he said "Stiles," like a question and an answer and a plea and maybe even a prayer. Stiles caught the way his scent swirled in confusion and became tangy from its usual rich and soft flavor. He caught the overlay of heady embers.

"But the way you asked me to want you, even though you didn't know, the way you  _made_  me want you, the kind of want that can save someone's life? That's- that's not… We made a connection, Derek!" he snapped, rubbing his eyes furiously. "I know you can feel when I steal energy from you. And it's helping me battle off the residual Peter, but it's making me almost just as sick because you don't- and I can't ask you to-," Stiles's voice choked off. He clenched his jaw and scrunched his eyes and refused to continue talking. He didn't have words for this.

They sat in silence for a while. No words were spoken, only the thrum of their hearts and the arrhythmic pace of their breaths and the steady hum of the ceiling fan between them. Then Derek moved, the fabric of his clothing rustling in that familiar way to indicate someone standing. Then the clicking of shoes on the fake wood floor: one, two, three- "I…" Derek's voice came out weak, unsure, afraid, his scent spiking with more of that tang and less of that ember.

The sound of a police cruiser pulling into the drive way could be heard over the stillness in the air. Before the Sheriff pulled his car into park, Derek was gone.

"Stiles?" his dad questioned having walked into the living room to see his son failing at holding back tears and staring blankly at nothing. His dad rushed over, dropping his coat onto the floor and pulling Stiles close. "What's wrong?" he whispered, cradling Stiles's head into the crook of his neck. Stiles breathed in crisp warm scent of apples and cinnamon that underplayed his dad's skin and sweat. He shook his head, nuzzling into his dad and refusing to answer.

After a few minutes, the Sheriff pulled pack and brushed away the residual tears with a comforting hand and soft fingers. "So, good news," John said tentatively, "your friend Danny came through. The recording is incriminating enough. I've got a different team working on it since Scott's your friend and I don't want to seem bias, just in case. It's a delicate situation, but they won't be going in knowing about werewolves so it'll be easier for them to see all the hard evidence."

"Good," Stiles croaked, "that's good."

There was a beat of silence between them. "You gonna tell me what happened?"

Stiles sighed and placed his head on his dad's shoulder. "I think I have to leave the pack." The Sheriff jerked back and dunked his head to make eye contact. There was a question there that didn't need voicing. John was really getting to understand the dynamics of pack, the importance of pack. As far as he cared, Derek saved Stiles when he was dying and that was something sacred. "If I can't get over Peter without taking energy from Derek I'll never get better. Not all the way."

They sat there for a long time, Stiles and his dad gripping each other in comfort and somber understanding. Eventually, the Sheriff gave a squeeze before standing and heading to the kitchen. "If you can start dinner, I'm going to call your Aunt."

X

Scott sat in the police office with a lightly patched up knife wound that was keeping all his concentration. If he didn't pay attention it would begin to knit together again. He figured he shouldn't do that while still in the station, despite them already have taken the photos for evidence.

They had already brought Gerard in; Scott could hear the man's voice discussing the matter in one of the integration rooms. He had also heard a few suggestive words from Allison that left the officers looking into the case on a trail to some of his previous murders. If things went smoothly, they had him.

Of course, Scott should know by now, that things going smoothly in one area means that things are most certainly falling apart in another.

As Scott was exiting the building, finally being done processed, Isaac came racing up to him. "Something's wrong with Derek," were the first words out of his mouth. "He came back to the depot last night in a weird funk and I don't know why but there's something  _wrong_. I mean…," he trailed off. Before Isaac could gather his thoughts and elaborate, Scott heard his name being called and turned to face Allison who was racing out of the building.

"Allison?"

Isaac nearly whined behind him and Scott understood why. Something was pulling at him, at both of them, the bond of pack felt wrong and twisted and it was verging on painful. It was happening so suddenly, he couldn't fathom why.

"I'm sorry," Allison said, wrapping her arms around Scott. "I'm sorry Gerard would do that to you, but my parents agree that he was out of line and has been, but after Kate and all the deaths recently, and now this and what they're likely to dig up on him, I'm sorry." She pulled him tighter placed a kiss onto his neck that sent shivers down his spine. "We're moving. Far away. We can't live with this stigma here. I'm sorry."

Scott was able ignore the uncomfortable sensation from his pack bonds as his heart shattered at losing Allison. "Hey, hey," he said, trying to comfort Allison as much as himself, "it'll be okay. You have to believe that. Okay? We'll be okay."

Suddenly the bond keeping the pack together snapped like a string pulled too taut. Both he and Isaac keeled over, struggling to keep in the surge of emotion and energy screaming at them to go primal and scream in pain and loss. They instinctively reached out for each other, hands grasping at the other's biceps and grounding themselves with pack, panting hard. Erica's howl could be heard in the distance.

"What," Scott wheezed as if he still had asthma, "was that?"

Chris walked out of the police station, gesturing for Allison to stand by him, which she did after one last kiss to Scott's cheek. "That," Mr. Argent said, "probably only affected you so strongly because you're all such a new pack. Normally a loss of a pack member doesn't feel that strong unless they've been killed."

There was a rush of confusion as both Isaac and Scott asked frenzied questions about how Chris knew or if he had killed one of their pack or why else would Chris know, before Mr. Argent finally commanded silence and explained. "I just got off the phone with the Sheriff. While he doesn't exactly like me, especially considering the circumstances of my family at the moment, he wanted to make sure his son would be protected and not likely to run into any hunters in Anaheim."


	8. The Distance

Stiles was pit stopping in Coalinga when he did it, because just distance wasn't enough, he knew. He had talked to Deaton about it when this possible solution first came up. He didn't know how to explain, really, the way he reached out for that bond and tore. Without moving he reached out and grabbed at something that wasn't tangible and broke the part that was  _him_. It wouldn't work fully. There would always be  _something_  tying him to Derek, but this was what he needed to do. He didn't expect it to feel like committing seppuku.

The phone call from Scott happened almost immediately after. "I'm sorry," Stiles answered. "I was going to explain everything after I did it because I knew you would convince me to stay." Before Scott could get a word in edgewise he explained everything. He talked about how he was taking Derek's power and it was making him sick. How he was still fighting off Peter, but he was getting better and needed to do it on his own. He couldn't be a part of the pack without stealing the power and he couldn't stay in the vicinity without reestablishing the bond. "I'm going down and finishing the year off with my Aunt. I'll come back when I'm better. I promise."

There was silence on the other end, but Stiles could hear Scott's breathing through the static. "Your Aunt who hasn't talked to you or your dad since your mom died?" he asked.

Stiles gulped. "Yeah."

There was another beat of silence. "Don't. Okay. It's not worth it. Go somewhere else."

"Scott, she never liked my dad and we haven't talked since I was ten but she's the only other family I have, the only place for me to go."

It was a some four hours later when he finally reached his destination. Stiles's aunt really wasn't a bad person, and he knew that. She still sent him a card and some cash for Christmas and birthdays, but Stiles could remember the tension in the room when she visited before his mom's death and he had found her facebook a time back and went over it. Clare wasn't the black sheep of the family, though. That was Claudia, the free spirit who used her college savings to back pack across Europe and married a man who, sure, was going to be a cop once he got out of the academy, but who didn't have enough money to support a woman trying to be a writer, living in a shoebox apartment for years after they married before they could afford a house. From what Stiles knew, the only one that understood and sided with his mother and her choices was her father, the man Stiles shares a name with, but who had passed long before Stiles was born.

Stiles's aunt Clare, however, was a mother's dream in that she had always done exactly what she was told. Now, Claudia wad gone, but still had a husband and son that loved her, while Clare was a disgruntled Disneyland station manager, and Stiles was her only blood relative alive.

"Hey," Stiles said with a weak smile when she opened her front door. "My dad called?"

Clare didn't look like Claudia, not really. You could see the family ties, but she was a heavier woman, especially since most of Stiles's memories of his mother were when she was sick. Besides, the sadness behind her eyes took away any resemblance. Claudia, even when she was dying, was jovial.

Clare jerked her head softly into the house. "Come on in, kid. We'll get you sorted."

Stiles had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. Her voice, though. Her voice was just like his mom's.

X

"You're an asshole," Lydia told him via skype chat the next afternoon. "You're an asshole and I hate you."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and readjusted his seat on his temporary bed. "I know." He could see the tension in her face, the clench of her jaw and the way her eyes were wide and squinted at the same time. She wanted nothing better than to cry and yell, but she was composing herself because that was what Lydia Martin does.

"Allison and her parents repacked their house up and are moving to France. She's leaving  _tomorrow_. Okay, so now my boyfriend broke up with me, my best friend is moving to a different  _continent_ , my mom is going to be out of town the entire week of my birthday, Danny isn't really talking to me out of bro solidarity or something stupid like that, and now you're gone too. That's  _not_ okay, Stiles. Everybody's abandoning me! And yes, I know, you all have your own things to work through and despite high school politics I know I am not actually everybody's number one priority, but god, Stiles, who do I have left?" Lydia let out a sharp breath before inhaling deeply and calming herself down.

"I'm not abandoning you, Lyds," he promised. "You can call or text me whenever you need or want, okay. And I'm coming back, I promise. As soon as I have this all under control. And you can always go to my dad or Derek."

"I know I can, Stiles," she sighed, "but you're my friend, kind of. You care about me and you understand what I'm going through best."

"Not kind of. I'm your friend."

She smiled softly on his screen and wiped away a tear at the corner of her eye. "Fine. Then I expect full updates on your recovery and I'll supply you with details as to how the pack is doing."

"Deal."

They were silent for a moment before Lydia's smile faded and she looked away from the camera. "I wish you were here."

"Sorry," he replied.

Lydia sighed. "I had another episode today. And you weren't here for me, and I hate that."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, really meaning it.

"It's fine," she said dismissively, even though it obviously wasn't. "I just thought you should know. Also, you should know if what's going on between you and Derek is what I think it is, this isn't going to get rid of it."

Stiles looked down to his hands, a blush crawling up his face at the thought of people knowing. "There's nothing going on," he muttered. "Just, like I told Scott. I'm taking energy away from Derek to fight against this freaky sickness, and it's only making me worse, so I had to break away until I'm better."

Lydia shook her head. "I know, but the reason you're taking energy from Derek will still exist when you come back."

"How do you-," he began but Lydia silenced him with a look.

"I was there the last full moon, Stiles. I was the only one not going crazy with werewolf shit at the time and I could see it. The two of you have become something to each other."

Stiles frowned and nodded. "I know. But I don't know how much of that is because of the bite and how much is actual feelings and I definatley don't know how he feels about me and I just-," he sighed, collecting his thoughts. "I can't deal with that on top of everything else. I need to get healthy. Then I'll figure out what to do about the whole, whatever, thing."

"Mates?" Lydia provided, not really a question.

"Yeah. We bonded when he bit me. I'm 85% sure."

Lydia scoffed. "I'm 98% sure, so." Stiles held back a groan. If she was that positive, it was bound to be true. Lydia was a genius after all.

X

That evening came a knock on the door. Stiles honed in his senses from the guest room his aunt gave him on the second floor and sniffed out the uncanny odor of one Scott McCall. Stiles raced down the stairs as fast as he could (which honestly wasn't very fast, even for a human), and opened the door to stare at his best friend's stupid mug.

"Dude! What are you doing here?" he asked, thoroughly confused. Scott just shrugged and asked to be let in. "Not until you tell me why the fuck you drove cross state to follow me."

Scott looked a little abashed for his actions but lord could his puppy dog eyes sway a guy. "I couldn't let you do this on your own, okay?"

Stiles gave an indignant look but shook his head and let his friend in. "My aunt's gonna freak at you," he told him. "How did you get here anyway? No way your mom let you take the car."

"Um…." Scott began. Stiles narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on his friend's chest.

"No more steps forward until you tell me what's going on."

Scott sort of deflated a little. "Your dad asked Mr. Argent to make sure it was safe for you out here from other hunters."

"HE  _what!?_ "

"And I talked to Derek and he thought it was a good idea if you had someone with you who knew what was going on. I'm still in Derek's pack, but this way we can watch out for you."

"Back up to the part about Christ Argent."

Scott gave a wry smile. "He drove me?" Stiles deadpanned. "He wanted to come down and make sure it  _was_ safe for you, as a sort of good faith gesture to your dad and the pack, before flying out to Paris where he'll meet up with Allison and her mom."

Stiles anger dropped. "You came here instead of spending the last precious hours with Allison together?"

"Yeah?"

Stiles roped Scott in for a very manly hug. "Dude, you're the best, you know that? I forget sometimes."

Scott laughed into his neck. "Nah, man. It's cool."

"It's Allison. This is a big, deal," Stiles said, pulling away. "I'm sorry you're missing her for this."

Scott sighed and plopped himself into one of the armchairs in the tiny living room. "We said our goodbyes already. We're gonna keep in touch, skype or whatever. And then, if we're still in love in two years, we're gonna go to the same college. No if ands or buts."

Stiles clasped a hand on his bro's shoulder. "That's awesome man. I'm happy for you. I'm also happy you don't have to suffer the wrath of her mother anymore."

"Ugh, I know, she was creepy!" Scott groaned.

 _Maybe,_  Stiles thought as he and Scott continued to talk,  _maybe everything was really going to be okay_.

He should have known better.

Scott was staying at a motel room Chris was spotting the bill for, so Clare was okay with him over during the days, but come the full moon they would need somewhere to hunker down. Stiles had done some scouting already. He knew it would be harder to find large abandoned buildings miles away from civilization in a big city than it was in the cluster of towns in Beacon County (that are themselves fairly spread apart). There was, however, this one old children's hospital that had long since gone under which a local university had bought and used for club meetings and storage for theater props and other miscellaneous uses. It was largely untouched and never open at night and the basement was concrete and the surrounding buildings weren't residential and would most likely be empty by 10pm. So, on the night of the full moon, Stiles and Scott holed themselves up in the basement of a former hospital and it was terribly creepy, to be honest.

The night for them went by without much more than some dizziness on Stiles's part, with him and Scott reigning in the shift fairly successfully.

In the morning, though, before the sun even peaked through the one cellar window, his phone rang.

X

Lydia had planned on having a birthday party. She  _always_ had a birthday party and it was always the best party of the year. But with the attack at the spring semi-formal on top going into a fugue state and having hallucinations, then both Allison and Stiles leaving town, she didn't really know if she wanted a party. She didn't want to celebrate to make herself feel better. She didn't want empty wishes from near strangers who used to worship her at school but now seem wary of her. She didn't want pity. But then one night she found herself in the shell of the old Hale house. Then she realized she'd been hallucinating more than she had thought. Then she knew they weren't just hallucinations but something of Peter Hale still lived and it had clung to her consciousness.

Then she was positive she wasn't going to have the party. It was on the full moon and that wouldn't be a wise choice and none of the people she would want to come would be able to anyway. Still, she didn't tell Stiles. He was right, he needed to get better, and coming back to Beacon Hills because she was scared wouldn't help him. And Lydia didn't need anyone's help. Or, at least, she didn't think she did until she was caught up in another nightmare, not quite sure if she was really walking through the town with a pocket full of powdered wolfsbane. Not quite sure if the younger version of the corpse she had been talking to was really just in her mind as he held her wrist and dragged her down the streets, pin pricks of claws stinging her flesh. Not quite sure if she hadn't died that night on the lacrosse field.

And then jerking awake, like a camera coming into focus. Jackson held the wrist that she was so sure Peter had been leading her by, a worried look on his face and her name still ringing in the air and on his lips. "Where am I?" she asked, panicked. Jackson wrapped his arms around her, whispering "Oh thank god," into the curls of her hair. "What's going on?" she asked, pushing him back to see, "Jackson?"

"I came to your house. I wanted to talk, but all the lights were out and Prada was barking like crazy. I found him in your backyard and your shoe prints were leading into the woods. I searched  _everywhere_ ," he said holding tight to her again.

Lydia noticed her surroundings: the same charred room she had woke up screaming in not too long ago. Derek Hale lay unconscious on the floor.

"What did I do?" she asked, horrified as Derek began to writhe on the ground. Jackson began to talk but all she could hear was Peter's voice telling her to put their hands together. The moonlight was almost ready. Just place their hands together.

"It's okay," Jackson said, trying to sooth her.

"No, it's not!" she screamed, pushing Jackson away with the amount of strength she wanted to pull him closer with. "He's in my head, Jackson. He's in my head and will be unless I do this!" Lydia felt the tears sear across her cheeks as she pushed past Jackson. Derek looked up at her bleary eyed. Lydia heard Jackson ask what she was doing, but all Lydia could say was how sorry she was as she took Derek's limp hand against his groggy protests and placed it in the stiff curled palm of his uncle's.


	9. The Reunion

“Maybe that’s why,” Stiles said distantly after Lydia finished explaining the events of the full moon back in Beacon Hills. Scott hadn’t been with him when Lydia called, he was doing a run now. Being cooped up on the full moon hadn’t been a picnic for either of them, but for Scott it was because he just wanted to be free. Stile just wanted to not be sick. 

“Why what?”

“Why it’s been taking so long to get the Peter infection out of me.” There was silent judgments on the other side of the phone. Lydia didn’t like not being the one to figure things out. “Despite dying and Derek taking the transferred power to save me, Peter wasn’t really dead. You were like a failsafe. A horcrux.”

“Peter may be evil, but he’s not Voldemort,” she said flippantly. 

“Debatable,” Stiles said, powering up his computer. “Maybe if we kill him again I’ll be healed.”

“If I ever get a chance to kill him, I will. Trust me.” 

Stiles laughed. “Good. So, wait, let’s go back a few steps here,” Stiles said, his brain jumping from each point in Lydia’s story. “The betas?”

“Almost broke out, but Isaac was able to get under enough control to act as bodyguard, especially after I knocked out Derek.”

“And Jackson?”

There were a few moments of quiet. Lydia’s breathing. The muffled sound of a pen clicking the microphone on her cell was just barely picking up. “I don’t know what that was, Stiles. One moment I’m hallucinating, unsure where I am or what’s real, the next Jackson was holding my wrist, like him touching me brought me to my senses.”

“Like an anchor,” Stiles mused.

“I’m not a werewolf,” Lydia bit out.

A beat of silence. “You’re something.” Lydia didn’t say anything in response. Stiles didn’t expect her to. “So, are you two dating again?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Break my heart why don’t you.”

Lydia scoffed. They both knew the love forming between them was completely platonic. “He told me he was planning on asking for the bite. That seeing you sick scared him.”

“He used the word scared?” Stiles asked, getting excited. “Because that is something I would love to hold over him.”

“Shut up,” she teased, thankful for the lightness of the conversation after so much drama. Just a break, they both knew. Just a moment. “I think us being apart was a good thing. You know I never gave his house key back. He saw it when he pulled me away from Peter.”

“And?”

“It’s like it reminded us how much we mean to each other.”

“You guys are sappy and disgusting. Here I thought I’d only have to hear this kind of stuff from Scott.”

They could feel the conversation shift, the morose weight of numbing adrenaline and anticipatory fear. “Jackson’s thinking about talking to Derek for the bite.”

Stiles hummed into the speaker. “Just be there for him. If he’s your anchor, you can sure as bet you’re his.” 

“Right,” Lydia muttered. 

“I’m sending Scott back,” he told her. “If Peter’s there you need to be as strong as possible. And, honestly, he’s not a bad strategist of it comes down to it.”

“Scott?” she asked disbelivingly.

“He’s better with instincts, like on the field, whatever. But he’s beaten my dad at chess before,” Stiles admitted, already clicking through link after link on his laptop to find some sort of information werewolves rising from the dead and putting a few choice articles to his bookmarks. “Heck, he’s beaten me at chess before.”

Stiles could practically hear Lydia readjusting her schema. “How many times?”

“Only a handful,” he said. “But still. I’ve beaten you.”

“I know,” she seethed. 

Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. He was still tired from the full moon, but he was recuperating  
much better than the last time. “Look, talk to Deaton. Make sure you’re not having any weird hallucinations and that that’s really done and over with, threaten to neuter Derek if he doesn’t keep you safe from Peter, and I hate to say this, but stick to Jackson.” 

“Right,” she said, stronger this time. 

X

Scott did not like the idea of leaving Stiles to his lonesome. In the end, though, Stiles won out. He wasn’t in danger of hunters, he had a spot for the full moon, he was getting better, stronger, and there weren’t any other wolves in the area. “They need you right now so much more than I do,” Stiles told him. It took a little more convincing, but he won out. 

And so the days passed. Without Scott, the days were boring, tedious, but he managed. His aunt spent most hours at work and despite assurances made to Beacon Hills High that we was going to be home schooled for the rest of term, both his dad and his aunt knew that wasn’t going to be the case. Stiles did study though. He brushed up his school subjects, but mostly he studied books Deaton sent down to him. 

Lydia and Scott kept him updated on the pack. She and Jackson were going strong and he, according to Scott, was turning into less and less of a douchebag. He hadn’t turned yet, but they all knew he was planning on asking. “He just wants a family,” Scott said one day. “He wants to really belong to something. I don’t think he gets that at school.” Stiles remembered the conversation he had with Jackson that felt forever ago. He hadn’t wanted family then, he had wanted power. He had wanted to be the best. Lydia said Jackson never really got over the whole adoption thing. He was compensating with his need for power. But Stiles believed Scott. Jackson didn’t want to risk dying, so something he saw in the pack dynamic might have changed his mind.

Boyd, Isaac, and Erica were going better, getting stronger, exceeding expectations in everything except strategy. Scott won out in that area during practice. Derek had found a suitable apartment to pass inspection by whatever people needed to sign off on him becoming Isaac’s guardian. Isaac told Scott that he had first found a loft with a freaking hole in the wall. But they landed in a nice apartment until Derek could get the legalities through to build a house on his old property. A new house. One with a home for all the pack. And very fire proof.

And Peter, Peter was missing. Not a word since his resurrection. They had sniffed him around for a few days following, not enough to track him, but then nothing. It made Stiles’s skin crawl thinking about it. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for the rest of his.. for the rest of the pack.

And Stiles… After his second successful full moon all by himself, Stiles called up his dad first. “I’m coming home.”

In his excitement, he had almost forgotten about Derek.

X

Derek stood in alert as the sound of Stiles’s jeep rumbling closer hit his ears. His muscles froze in disbelief and slight panic as his senses zeroed in on the grinding of the engine, the screech of the tires as it pulled into park outside the building, the way it cut, the heavy cover of exhaust as a door swung open and then clicked shut again, of the underlying scent of the first werewolf he ever turned growing stronger until nothing but Stiles filled his nose and he was close enough to hear his heart pounding in his chest. It had been months since Stiles left. Derek followed the sound of his footsteps as they wound up the buildings steps and headed straight to Derek’s apartment door. The sound stopped as Stiles reached the door, but he stayed silent, just waiting on the other side. Then, finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he knocked.

After what felt like a longer lifetime, Derek willed himself to move. When he opened the door, their eyes locked and he was sure they could both feel it. The connection. Despite having ripped himself from the pack, there was still something there that never frayed between the two of them. And now, without the black bile of Peter’s influence poisoning it, it was so much more powerful. 

“Can I come in?” Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded and stepped aside, watching as Stiles took in all the details of Derek’s new home and the way the boy’s slender fingers trailed over only the few personal touches Derek had brought to the place, and none of the one’s Isaac had. 

“It looks nice,” he said eventually, before sighing and running a grim hand over his face before sinking into a nearby chair. “You understand why I left, don’t you?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek with such soulful eyes. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Because I didn’t want to leave you- the pack. I definitely didn’t want to leave my dad. But I had to. It was the only way.” Derek frowned, that last part was a lie. He could hear the blip. Stiles winced and looked down. “It was the only way, because the other would have meant asking for something I was afraid to want, something I wasn’t ready for even if you wanted it too, or whatever.”

“Okay,” Derek said softly.

“Can I still be pack?”

The hope in his voice was heartbreaking, as if he really expected Derek to just leave him for hunters or something. As if Derek would ever say no. Could ever say no. “You always have a place in my pack if you want it.”

A brilliant smile broke across Stiles’s face before tempering down to something softer, more private. Derek could already feel the pack bonds strengthening with his addition, the connection they shared humming beneath his skin. Stiles stood and bashfully rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks.” Something shifted between them in the spans of a breath and Stiles looked at him as if he could see more than just the flesh and bones and blood that made Derek. “Derek, I-,” he stopped, turning his head abruptly towards the far corner and sniffing the air. A few moments later, Derek picked up the scent that managed to stop Stiles from talking. It was rich and exotic, like what he imagined the rainforest to smell like, yet there was something familiar, eerily so, about it. Derek watched Stiles track the sound associated that Derek couldn’t seem to isolate out of other the other people in the building until the sound of footsteps down his hall caught his attention. 

They stalled at the end of his hall for a second, two, three, fou- the feet raced down the hall at werewolf speed and Derek braced himself as he watched the door swing open. Immediately after, his shoulders dropped, all preparation against an attack gone as he stared at a ghost.

“Oh my god, you really are alive,” the girl’s voice broke. 

“Cora?”


	10. The Homecoming

Stiles was brought into a bone crushing hug the moment he stepped into his house.  His father had missed him.  It was too easy to worry when a son was so far away.  He let Stiles settle, prepared frozen chicken and broccoli, added a low sodium sauce.  It was about all the Sheriff had been eating while alone.  Wasn’t too much to mess up.  He missed his burgers and take out, but having seen his son almost die, having seen his son too weak to stand, to walk, to laugh, John vowed to take better care of himself.  He needed to be a strength for Stiles.  Too long had he not realized Stiles was taking on too much, trying to be the strength for the father.  It wasn’t supposed to be that way.  

They ate and Stiles talked and John was so elated to see his boy animated, to see a life behind his eyes and color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there when he left, to just see his boy, he almost missed it.  Yes, there was life, but there was also sadness, confusion, a myriad of typical angst ridden teenager.  But John knew his son wasn’t a typical teen.  Or maybe he was.

“What’s the matter?”

“Huh?” Stiles spluttered, mid word and fork halfway to his mouth.  “Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  Everything’s great.  I was just telling you that I’m able to run.  And not just Stiles flailing around on the field, but like Stiles is a creature of the night with supernatural agility now.  It’s crazy!”  Stiles shoveled more food into his mouth.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes.  Stiles nearly choked.  It was nice to know that with all the weird things going on, his son was still Stiles.  The teen sighed, taking his time to chew and swallow before dropping the ‘everything is okay’ façade.  “I went to go see Derek before coming here.”

“So you said.  You wanted to reestablish pack.”

Stiles placed his elbows on the table and hid his face into his hands.  “I know you’ve been kept up to date with the weird Peter shit and what not, but I haven’t – I mean.  That time you found me crying.  It wasn’t just because – I mean it was, but there was more to it.  It’s… UGH!” Stiles ground his palms into his eyelids and took deep breaths.  John watched the way his son’s nails grew slightly before receding immediately.  If he hadn’t been watching so carefully he wouldn’t have noticed.  

Stiles, who was always so good at filling silences, wasn’t always so good with words.  He talked around things.  John knew he simply had to wait it out, let him collect his thoughts.  When it mattered, it was hard.  He knew.

“I can still feel Peter,” Stiles admitted, “like a sickness.  A cold settling just behind my breastbone.  And he’s alive again, maybe a part of him was alive this whole time and that’s why I had to break pack ties to heal, but he’s still there.”  He let out a shaky breath and wiped away a stray tear from frustration.  “And Derek’s still there,” he said softer.  “Peter may disappear one day, but Derek never will.  The tie we made when he turned me wasn’t just a pack bond.  And we turned into a promise on my first full moon without him even realizing… Without me even realizing.”  Stiles looked up and caught his father’s eye.  “Deaton said this kind of thing is really rare.  Werewolves aren’t like real wolves.  They don’t mate for life.  It’s not some Jacob Black bullshit where they imprint.  But sometimes werewolves bond.  Something stronger than mere emotions.  I was _taking energy_ from Derek before I left, Dad.  We were connected and… and we still are.  And it’s never going away.”

John took a moment to wrap his head around everything, frowning at the implications.  “And Derek?”  As a father, he wasn’t sure what would be worse, Derek being with his son in a romantic nature or Derek breaking his son’s heart.  A part of him hoped they could turn this bond whatever into like a blood-brother pact, but just as John knew his son was upset, just as John knew  his son needed silence to find his words, John knew that look in his eyes now.  It was one already fallen in love.  

Stiles shook his head and looked at his plate.  “We didn’t get a chance to talk about it.  I don’t know what he thinks.  His sister came back from the dead.”

John blanched.  “What!?  Is it a whole family of zombies now?”

Stiles shook his head.  “Cora, his younger sister.”

Recognition dawned on the Sheriff.  “Her body was never identified among those salvaged from the fire.”

“I didn’t stay.  It was too personal.  I don’t know where she’s been all this time.”

John nodded dumbly.  God, an eleven year old kid off wandering the world alone, and no one in the department even knew.  Derek didn’t even know.  Shit.  He needed a glass of whisky.  

“I can only imagine what that boy is going through,” John said after a moment.  “And you,” he pointed his fork and Stiles, “focus on yourself.  You’re strong, kid.  Otherwise you wouldn’t have been brave enough to take the high road and leave when you needed to.  I believe in you.  Everything will sort itself out just fine.  You just,” John put his fork down.  “You just enjoy the last few days of summer.  Focus on school.  I know you were planning on going to Heather’s birthday party.  Just, relax.  You may not be able to shake these ties, but they don’t have to determine every action you make.”

Stiles gave a weak smile, but he seemed more relaxed.  “Thanks dad.”

X

When Scott came over that night he brought seven pizzas and the rest of the group.  Isaac, Lydia, Boyd, Erica, Jackson, and Danny all filed into his living room.  The wolves tackled him in excitement.  “Don’t you ever do that to us again, Stilinski!” Erica snapped.  “I thought someone had cut my arm off when you broke off.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost cut Derek’s arm off?  Because that was thing that happened.”

Lydia wrapped his arms around Stiles waist and hugged tightly once the werewolves cleared.  “I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered, even though she knew most everyone in the room could hear her anyway.  

Stiles even got a clap on the back from Danny and Jackson.  Jackson hovered for a second before nodding in solidarity to Stiles and linking his fingers with Lydia’s.  

Boyd had started setting up a movie and Erica was in the kitchen waiting on the popcorn she had already stuck in the microwave, riffling for bowls.  “I don’t know where Derek is,” Isaac said with a frown.  “He was going to come.”

Stiles shuffled with a bit of nerves.  “Have you been home at all today?” he asked Isaac.

Isaac shook his head with a frown.  “Scott and I have been hanging out.  Why?”

“I went to see him when I got in.”  Lydia caught his eye and Stiles shook his head.  “Grant access back into the pack and all that.  Um.  His sister showed up.  Is alive.  Cora.  I left pretty quickly, but they had both thought the other was dead.  I’m sure they’re still reuniting or whatever.”

The room was silent, everyone watching with wide eyes and horror, unsure how to take this information.  “Well,” Boyd said, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a wave of calm, “I think I’m going to put in a different movie.” He went back to searching the DVD titles by the TV and it was enough to settle the rest of the pack.

They chatted, staying to lighter topics as they settled around the TV.  Isaac told him the papers should be through by the end of the week, effectively making Derek his legal guardian.  Stiles noticed the way Boyd and Erica distinctly tried to not eye each other as they squeezed onto the love seat.  Lydia sat between Danny and Jackson on the couch all three of them feeling safe and content among friends.  She gave Stiles a warm smile through the opening credits.  He took the lazy boy and Scott and Isaac sat on the floor, throwing popcorn into each other’s mouths.  The pizza was already gone.

Twenty minutes in, Stiles stood and headed outside.  No one bothered to follow.  The wolves all heard the same thing Stiles did, the smooth purr of a Camaro, the only one in town.  

It pulled up onto the curb behind Jackson’s Porsche and Mrs. McCall’s minivan.  Derek stepped out of the driver’s seat.  Despite the low tones, Stiles could make out the words of assurance Derek made to his sister before she too got out of the car.  Cora was all hard edges and cold stares.  She was like a mini-Derek.  “Come on,” Stiles said, jerking his head to motion them inside.  “We’re watching Mulan.  There’s no pizza left but feel free to anything in the kitchen.”  Stiles gave Cora a warm smile.  “No need for talking tonight.”

He didn’t miss her shoulders relaxing, just the slightest.  

‘Thank you’, Derek mouthed.  

They did talk, eventually.  No one besides Derek knew Cora’s full story, but that was okay.  She didn’t know if she was going to stay.  It was all too strange.  She hadn’t seen her brother in six years.  Hadn’t even known he was alive, and yet he was.  She had missed out on finding Laura, too.  Cora didn’t know how to handle the information about how Derek became alpha.  “I heard rumors,” she had said, “that a Hale had come back to Beacon Hills and was building a new pack.  I didn’t know what to expect, honestly.”  She didn’t seem impressed, but she didn’t seem let down either. Cora wasn’t pack, not yet.  She still had ties somewhere else, but she was under their protection now.  It didn’t matter.

Stiles wasn’t going to let the only family Derek had left get hurt.  Peter didn’t count.  Stiles was very much willing to be the one to hurt Peter.  

That being said, Stiles didn’t expect it to happen so soon. 

X

A series of events:

The day before school starts, Scott gets a tattoo, brining Isaac along because despite being a werewolf Stiles is not a big fan of needles.  Nor a big fan of watching someone (Derek) burn the ink into Scott’s skin, but he was unfortunate enough to witness that.  

The state had wanted to take over the property, but Derek bought it back.  It was due for demolition.  None of them had been there for a long time.  There was a marking on the door.  

When they waited for Scott to wake up (he passed out from the pain of blow torch), Stiles took a breather outside.  He hadn’t talked to Derek alone yet.  He almost couldn’t think of saying it anymore.

Cora showed up and cried. She hadn’t seen the Hale house since it was on fire six years ago. 

Stiles invited her to Heather’s party the next night.

At school, they have a new English teacher who just smells _off_.  But Stiles couldn’t pin point why.  

Stiles brought Scott to help him forget about Allison.  She had broken it off that week.  Long distance wasn’t working for them.    

Stiles brought Cora to help her feel like a normal teenager.  

Heather kissed Stiles.

Had this been eight months ago, Stiles would have been so on board.  Instead, he told her he’s pretty sure he’s gay.  “Of course.  Just my luck,” she said.  

Cora came over and said completely straight face, “I’m pretty sure I’m gay, too,” and then winked and walked into the crowd of people dancing.  Stiles and Scott gaped at each other as Heather’s eyes bugged out and her entire face turned into a tomato.  

The next morning before the bell rang, Stiles got a text from Heather: **I’m pretty sure I’m at least a little gay too.**

Stiles smirked and tucked his phone away before Miss Blake came in and saw it.  He was glad he remembered.  She looked like she had a bad night and Miss Blake was definitely someone who took no prisoners. 

Stiles was glad to be home, but he hadn’t really missed school. 


	11. The Game

Deucalion stared off to where the bank vault had sealed shut and frowned.  He could still hear the shallow breaths of Peter inside, starving and moon starved.  It was unacceptable that they had missed the opportunity to snag Cora as she made her way into town, but Duke had sent the twins to follow Scott south.  Still, Peter was a good find.  With Derek’s pack strong and working together, Peter was just the pawn needed to pull them apart.  The problem was, Peter knew how to play the game, be both master and chess piece.  

Peter was right in some aspects.  There was no reason to send the twins to the high school.  The two human targets were too well protected, just as much of Derek’s pack as the rest of them.  Besides, teenage emotions were precarious, but the bonds forged between this group was strong, and it could very well tip the balance just the slightest if either of his alphas were to get too involved.  No, Scott was a bleeding heart, but there was a few ways to ensure cooperation.  Deucalion’s dead eyes scanned the vault doors and smirked.  The full moon was only a day away.

From the other side of the vault door, Peter sat, cringing in near pain, strained from months of being unable to transform.  Still, he looked at the steel door and smiled.  The full moon was only a day away.

X

Weird things had been happening.  First it was the Prada bite on Lydia’s ankle.  Then it was the freak storm of birds.  The Sheriff told Stiles of a car crash where a buck had run head first into an SUV.  There was this stench underlying the school that none of the other betas could pick up.  His dad also had to question everybody who went to Heather’s party because a boy went missing from it.  Stiles never saw him, but still, spooky.  And Stiles hadn’t talked to Derek since Scott’s tattoo.  

Stiles offered to drive Isaac home so that he could talk to Derek.  Cora was staying there too, but she wasn’t pack yet, more like pack adjacent.  Cora was Derek’s sister, but she had a home for the past six years that wasn’t here.  Stiles could only imagine what it was like for her right now.  Choosing between the home she made and the home she lost.  Cora wasn’t going to school and she and Derek were having difficulty speaking to each other, if Isaac’s gossip was anything to go by.  

Weird thing number five was the short black girl standing in the middle of Derek’s living room.  Bleeding.

“Oh, God,” Stiles wined the moment the scent hit him.  “What is this?  Who is this girl?  Why are you just sitting there like she’s not bleeding all over your floor?” he exclaimed with an exasperated glance to Derek.  The alpha was sitting on the couch, arms resting on his knees, glaring.  “Just like old times,” Stiles murmured as he made his way to the bathroom.  The wound smelled fresh.  None of the blood had even crusted and the girl’s scent was primarily absent from the apartment.  Whoever she was, he wasn’t reading ‘threat’ from Derek.  Stiles scoured for antiseptic and bandages he had urged Isaac to stock up on.  _“What if Lydia gets hurt?”_ he had said. _“She’s just as much in on this as the rest of us, and she very much cannot turn into a super healing creature of the night.”_ Stiles found the supplies under the sink, still in the packaging.  He sliced the seal plastic with his forefinger claw ( _Still weird_ , he thought) and headed back to the living room.  

All had been silent in his absence other than Isaac saying Stiles wanted to talk.  Stiles could assume Derek had glared in response.  

“Okay, come here.” Stiles said, sitting down at the kitchen table and gesturing at the girl. 

“I’m fine,” she said.

“And I say you’re bleeding.  It’s not bad, but still.”

The girl looked like she fit right in to Derek’s life of black leather jackets.  She tugged hers off and threw it on the chair next to Stiles, sticking out her arm for inspection.   

“So,” Stiles prompted as he began to swab at her wound.  “I’m Stiles.  I assume you know about werewolves since this is a claw mark and you’re not even flinching and you’re in Derek’s loft.  So who are you again and why are you here?”

“My name’s Sasha,” she said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Sasha _fierce_ ,” Stiles smiled.  He looked up and shrugged.  “What? No Beyonce?  Okay. Back to the bandaging.”

Derek stood from his place of brooding and walked over.  “Sasha was sent here because…”  The pause was pregnant with distress, having Stiles snapping his head towards Derek.  

“What.”

See. Stiles knows how to eliminate question marks, too.  He went back to warping Sasha’s arm, trying not to radiate his frustration.  He didn’t know what the others were thinking, but it was clear to Stiles that Derek was hiding something.

“The Alphas.”

“Alphas?”  Cora shifted in the doorway to the bedroom.  Isaac dropped his bag and ruffled his hair.  The tension in the air tasted like cinnamon and banana pepper.  “As in plural.  As in you’ve known about this for how long?”

The silence drew out.  Long enough, was the answer.  Stiles withdrew his hands from Sasha’s arm having taped the wrap in place.  She pulled her jacket back on and tugged at the frayed edge where a claw had gotten her.  

“Look, I was sent because you don’t have an emissary,” she said.  Stiles gave her a look.  He knew the definition, but what it meant in this context was anyone’s guess.  “Exactly.  You don’t even know.”  Sasha pulled out her chair and plopped down.  She held herself strong, but Stiles could see how tired she was.  “Emissaries do the things that werewolf’s can’t.”

“Like the stuff Lydia’s been learning,” Isaac piped in.

“By Deaton?” the girl asked.  Stiles nodded.  “Then yes.  But look, I have a contact here who is emissary to the Alpha Pack.”

“ _Pack_ ,” Stiles emphasized, flicking eyes briefly at Derek.  “An Alpha _Pack._   How does that even work?”

“They have a leader.  They call him Deucalion.” 

Stiles never made it home that night.  It took a while to explain how Sasha got away when they attacked her on her way into town, who the contact was (which Sasha wouldn’t disclose), how she was sent to help keep the balance, a good hour and a half was dedicated to a screaming match between Derek and Stiles about sharing important information (Derek had known the alphas were in town since Scott got that tattoo and the marking was on the Hale House door) and that the entire pack should be here to learn about this, about whether or not Stiles was going to tell his dad (he was, period), how the pack worked, why they might be here at all, and then the mother load.  “I need to find the alpha,” she said.  “I need to find Scott McCall.”

“Scott’s not an alpha?” Stiles said, baffled.  All the werewolves looked at Sasha with confusion.  Derek even squared his shoulders as if to prove himself more in command.  Stiles would have thought it cute if he weren’t so pissed.

“Not an alpha, _the_ alpha,” Sasha said, picking at the sandwich Isaac so graciously made.  “Your buddy Scott has the potential to become an alpha all on his own.  It’s a rare trait.  And that’s why Deucalion wants him.”

“A true alpha,” Derek whispered.

“Yes.”

Stiles’s brain raced to put the puzzle together.  “So he’s collecting strong and unique alphas.  Because he’s crazy.  And he want’s Scott.  But he wants an alpha and Scott’s only a beta, so he’ll probably try to push Scott into becoming an alpha, however the hell that works.”

“It’s like an inheritance,” Derek supplied.  “I can give it away or someone can take it from me, like I took it from Peter.”

“He’s going to make Scott try to kill you?” Stiles asked.  

Cora came over pushed Stiles in the shoulder.  “Call your friend.   Have him come over.”  She looked at her brother.  “We’ll stand united on this.  They won’t win.”

Later, when Scott, Erica, and Boyd had been called over and they were discussing the matter in all seriousness with no yelling, Stiles slipped outside.  He needed to breathe.  The air was crisp for this early in semester.  It was still summer but the night was getting cold.  

It was easy for Stiles to track the conversation.  He had better senses than even Derek.  He could hear Cora repetitively zip and unzip her hoodie a fraction of an inch and Erica’s nails rap against the couch faux leather arm.  He could hear Isaac squirm in his seat and Sasha pace in frustration at having to repeat herself.  He could hear Scott gape and Boyd scoot closer to Erica.  He knew where everyone was in that room and he didn’t even have to look.

Derek couldn’t surprise him, if that had been his intent.  Stiles remembered the way he used to pop out of seemingly nowhere and Stiles would flail in utter shock.  It felt like so long ago.  Hadn’t even been a year.  Derek stood next to Stiles and leaned against the railing.  

“I’m going to give Jackson the bite.  I was waiting until after the full moon so he would have the longest time to adjust before hit with,” Derek waved his hand vaguely, “that.”

“Mmhm.”

“He really feels like part of the pack already.  Nowhere near that same douchebag I accidentally clawed while dying of poison.”

Stiles tried not to laugh.  “Mmhm.”  He could never be as stoic as Derek fucking Hale.

“I talked to your dad last week.”

Stiles looked up and frowned.  He hadn’t heard about this.

“I asked him to keep it between us for now.”  

“About what?”

Derek shrugged.  “I figured it would make me seem less like a creepy child collector if I were instead a young deputy wayward youths could find solace with.”

Stiles blinked.  “You just used the phrase ‘wayward youths’ and the word ‘solace.”

Derek’s scent caramelized and he looked away.  “Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “I did go to college.”

“For what? Poetry.  18th century literature?”

Derek pushed Stiles, trying to ignore the burn in his cheeks but Stiles was too caught up in the slow curl of pink to miss it.  “I got my associates in poly-sci, asshole.”

Stiles almost smiled before hearing a bit inside about how the Alpha pack is ruthless, willing to kill.

“It was not cool to keep us in the dark about this,” Stiles whispered.  

Stiles watched Derek, the way his eyes seemed like ghosts as he stared at the setting sun over a mass of buildings.  His neck strained and jaw clenched.  He was killing himself on guilt already, Stiles could only guess how much Derek had buried away over the years.  “I just got this,” Derek said, keeping his eyes firmly on the horizon.  “I just got this pack.  I just got you back, and my _sister_ back.  I didn’t want to lose it.  I didn’t want to lose the modicum of peace we’ve built.  Gerard is in jail, Kate’s dead, the rest of the Argents moved away.  No one’s seen Peter in months and I can’t help but shake the question if that’s a good or bad thing.  I just.”  Derek looked at Stiles and gulped.  “I was scared.”

“Like saying it out loud makes it real?” Stiles offered.

“Yeah, just like that.” 

Derek reached over and placed his hand over Stiles.  Seemingly without thought their fingers intertwined.  They stared at their hands for a moment, neither ignoring the way both their heartbeats ratcheted up.  Stiles pulled away.

“Sorry,” Derek said.

“No.  No, don’t be sorry.”  Stiles shook his head, yearning to reach out again but knowing he can’t.  “Just, this.  Whatever the fuck this is between us.  It’s complicated and needs a lot of discussion, I think.  I like words and laying everything out on the table.  Case in point,” he jerked his thumb to the apartment door.  “I just.  This whole Alpha thing is enough already.  Maybe we put whatever this is on the backburner until we have time to figure us out.  Okay?”        

Derek searched Stiles, both holding their breath and holding on to the feeling of the other in that brief moment they held hands.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Okay.”

X

“Hey kiddo!  It’s late.  Surprised you weren’t here when I got home,” the Sheriff called from the kitchen.  “I was just about to text you to see if- okay what happened.” His voice changed the minute he saw his son.

Stiles was bone tired and tingly.  The full moon was tomorrow and despite being better he could still feel a bit of Peter pestering inside his chest. Nothing from his discussions tonight helped settle him.  “We may have an issue.”

 


	12. The Sacrfice

“What? No, I’m not an emissary,” Lydia huffed into her coffee cup.

“Then what the hell has Deaton been teaching you?” Stiles asked.  They were sitting in the local café after school, knowing they needed to clue team human into everything.  Jackson and Danny were talking to Scott at track practice, but Stiles had dropped out for the year.  It sort of felt like cheating, now that he had super strength.  

Lydia shrugged and tore off a corner of her muffin.  “I mean, I’m learning everything text wise as to what an emissary would know, but I can’t actually do the stuff this Sasha girl can, what Deaton can.”

“Like what?”

She rolled her eyes and popped the muffin bite into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of coffee.  “Like the trick with the mountain ash.  In nature, you got caught behind a bunch of Rowen trees for example, you wouldn’t be able to cross it.  It acts as a ward to the supernatural.  An emissary has what Deaton called a spark.  They can take the powder of Rowen and create their own barriers using it.  However, the ash itself isn’t enough, they need the will, the ‘spark’.  I don’t have that.”

Stiles slumped into his seat.  “That is useful knowledge though.”

“And I’ve been translating the Argent’s bestiary.  There are so many things, Stiles.  So many.”  Lydia shivered as she thought of some of them.  “Werewolves aren’t the only things that go bump in the night.”

“Great.” Stiles hit his head against the table.  

“Watch it!” Lydia said shielding her muffin.  

“This alpha pack wants Scott.  But they want him as an alpha.”

“I’ll look into it,” she promised.  “Be careful tonight.  You’re all at your strongest but most vulnerable on the full moon.  I’ll probably check out the library.  You’d be surprised what you can uncover.”

“I was the one who figured out Scott was a werewolf before Scott did.”

She smirked.  “Maybe next you can figure what I am.  Immune,” she huffed.  “But why?” 

“Because you’re too pretty for side burns.  You should see Erica.”

Lydia laughed.  “Fact of the matter is, I’ve been busy learning all the important stuff while you and your werewolf buddies ran around chasing your tails.”

“Excuse you!” Stiles put his hand to his chest in mock horror.  “I spent my summer battling supernatural illness and making a scent catalogue.”

“A what?” 

Stiles flushed.  

X

Peter didn’t know how long the alphas had been tracking the on goings of Beacon Hills, but he did know what they wanted.  Alphas.  He knew they wanted McCall and maybe even Derek.  Peter knew that Deucalion wanted corruption, to ruin the purity that could be Alpha McCall.  Peter also knew that there was no one more corrupt than himself. 

X

“Stiles, this is genius,” Lydia said, carefully turning the pages of airtight, plastic, sample cases.  “And I’m actually a genius, so that’s saying something.  Some of these are really gross, you know,” she frowned.

“That’s because you’re going through my nature survival book.  The green binder is herbs and spices.  The white one is alcohols and vinegars and oils.  The blue one artificial flavorings and chemicals.  The red one is poisons.  There’s some overlay between that book and the others.  And I made a separate one for just different types of wolfsbane.  You should help me catalogue their effects.”

Lydia tapped the brown binder with her perfectly manicured nail and shook her head.  “You amaze me sometimes, Stilinski.  Oh, mistletoe.  Be careful with that.  It’s poisonous for you.”

Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his face.  “Great.  Can you split the sample?  I’ll add it to the red binder.  Mark it with a wolf so I remember.”

He tossed Lydia a plastic container and dug around for his wolf stickers when the scent hit him.  Lydia had opened the mistletoe berries.  Stiles frowned. 

“That’s the scent.”

“Hm?”

“That’s the scent underneath all the perfume.  Mistletoe.  And something else.”  Stiles pulled out the orange binder.

“And what’s that one?”

“Animals.”  He flipped through, opening a case every once in a while, quickly shutting them, until he found the right one.  “And moths.”

“What is?” Lydia asked, handing over the second sample of mistletoe.  

“Miss Blake.  Underneath all her perfume and peach body wash, she smells like mistletoe and dead moths.  The entire school is starting to smell like it.”

Lydia had her calculating face on.  “That’s not a normal thing, to smell like that.”

“No.”

“You know, I don’t know what I can find to help you with the alpha pack, but I do love a good mystery.”

Stiles reached over and pulled Lydia’s face close, kissing her on the cheek.  “You are a goddess.”

“I know.”

X

Peter could feel the night rise.  He could feel the twist and pull of a moon he could not howl at.  He knew what Deucalion was doing.  Turning him mad.  Months of deprivation and he would turn into an animal if released right now.  But Peter knew what it was like to lose your mind.  He’d lost his half a dozen years ago in a fiery blaze.  He knew what it was like to have control when your control was taken from you.  He knew that if he were to be released tonight he would attack anything in his path.  But he also knew he would have a path, straight to the one rotten bond left from his time as an alpha.  Lydia had served her purpose, Scott had grown stronger than him, but how Peter’s heart was tied to Stiles.

X

Stiles was relishing a full moon surrounded by pack.  Sasha was with them, armed with the mountain ash Lydia had told him about.  “Her bike is so much cooler than yours,” Stiles smirked as he knocked Scott to the forest floor.  Scott hopped to his feet and pushed back, telling Stiles how glad he was that his best friend wasn’t sick anymore but to shut up about his bike. 

“Hey, Tweedle Dee and Dum,” Cora called out, racing over.  Her face was as surly as her brothers, but she seemed happy.  “We’re on alert tonight, not play time.”  Stiles sighed but waved her over.  It wasn’t long before all three were rough housing.

Isaac was flirting and failing hard with Sasha while Erica watched on and laughed, chatting to Boyd who remained impartial.  

Derek stood at the edge of the clearing.  Six betas and an emissary.  All young.  All foolish.  Himself included.  He kept an ear out for potential threats, not letting himself get distracted by Stiles’s laugh.  

“Oh, look, fireflies!” Scott cheered.  

Stiles frowned.  “That’s not right.”

“What?”

“The type of firefly in California doesn’t light up.”

“Then they’re just flies,” Cora scoffed.

“No, that’s not…” his phone rang.  Lydia’s name was on caller ID.  “Hello?”

“I never made it to the library,” she said.  A sort of hush came over the werewolves as they all strained to listen.  

“What do you mean?  What happened?”

“I got into my car and I don’t remember anything else, but I drove.  All the way to the public pool.”  Lydia’s voice shook on the other end.  “And I found a body.  Like, I don’t think this is a normal dead body.”

“Shit.  Shit.  I’ll be right there.”

“I already called your dad.”

Stiles swore some more.  It wasn’t long before he was in his car on the way to the pool, having had to convince Derek he would be okay.  “I’ll howl if I get into any trouble, promise.”

The thing is, once one person breaks off from a group, it’s so easy for everyone else to break off as well.  Erica and Boyd tell Derek they’re gonna hole up in the depot and anyone with a nose could tell their hormones were going wild.  Scott decides to quick check up on his mom since she’s working the midnight shift at the hospital and something is gnawing at him.  Sasha goes with Scott because McCall was the one she was really sent to protect.  So, it’s just Isaac and Cora and Derek.  Isaac, who keeps making eyes at Cora in a not so subtle way, which is starting to piss Derek off.  Cora, who is relishing in the attention even though she doesn’t swing that way.  Derek, who’s mind keeps jumping to the absent members of his pack.  

When the wolf howls.

And it’s none of his own.

But it sounds eerily familiar. 

Stiles hears it, too.  Miles away and holding Lydia’s hand as she gives her statement to his father.  The corpse was human, but Lydia was right.  It wasn’t normal.  From the few minutes Stiles had before the cops showed up, he could make out the strangulation, the blow to the head, and the slice of the throat.  He could smell the man’s blood and the metal of the blade that spilled it.  

“The three fold death,” Lydia whispered.  “I’ve read about this.  It’s used in… rituals.”

“Rituals?”

“Sacrifices.”

They didn’t mention this to the Sheriff in front of the other deputies, but John knew he’d get the full story the next day.  But the howl worried him.  The way his son paled at the sound worried him.  The electricity in the air screaming something was just not right worried him.  

“I’ll be fine,” Stiles promised.  “But I should get out of here.  Make sure Lydia gets home safe.”

“Will do.  But son, just to let you know.  There’s a girl gone missing tonight.  Her girlfriend called in when she disappeared not an hour ago.”

Stiles pulled out his phone.  “I’ll let Derek know.”

It pained the Sheriff to let his son go, but the world was bigger than them just then.  He opened the passenger door to his squad car and ushered Lydia inside.  She held onto every detail of that night.  It was as if she had a mess of puzzle pieces from different boxes but they were all supposed to make the same image.  

Stiles raced off once Lydia was in the car.  He left his Jeep by the pool, racing towards the second howl that ripped through the night air.  

X

Scott was more than halfway to the hospital, Sasha and him riding their bikes on the back roads, when the howl sounded.  He pulled off to the side of the road and frowned.  When Sasha pulled up behind him, he asked her if she heard that.  

“Can’t hear as well as you.  Must have been far away.”

He frowned.  It wasn’t one of the pack.  He could just make out the cacophony of the hospital.  If the howl was the alphas, they were far enough away from his mom.  He thought about turning back, regrouping with the pack, when the hair on the back of his neck stood.  

“Well did you feel that?” Scott whispered.

“Yeah,” Sasha said, pulling a blade out of her belt.  “Yeah I did.”

In a second they were surrounded: three men and a woman.  “Well, you sure made this easy on us,” the woman scoffed.  

“Scott,” the shorter man wearing sunglasses said.  “Lovely to finally meet you.” 

X

Peter didn’t pull against the moon or his instincts.  He may have lost his mind, his control, but he still knew what he was doing. He knew going berserk made him stronger.  Perhaps strong enough to take an alpha.  Not the entire pack, but maybe one.  He knew he wanted that power.  That he deserved that power.  That it was his already.  And he knew that if there was one thing Derek Hale would protect even to his death, it was the same boy they had been playing tug of war with since Peter died. 

X

Lydia leaned her head against the window of the cruiser.  She sat straight suddenly, causing the Sheriff to glance over in concern. 

“Bring me to Deaton’s.”

“The vet’s?”

“I need to ask him a few questions.”

The Sheriff put his turn signal on and shifted lanes.  “Okay, but I’m a part of your supernatural investigation.  God, that will never stop being weird.”

It was a few minutes later that Lydia was storming into Deaton’s back room like she owned the place.  It didn’t surprise her that the vet was still in this late on a full moon.  “Miss Martin.  What can I do for you?”

“Mistletoe and dead moths, what does that mean to you?”

John scrunched his nose is confusion, but seeing the quick calculation behind Deaton’s eyes, it meant something.

“Something darker than I had been theorizing.”

John had come in earlier asking about the odd animal reports.  The cats at Deaton’s had killed themselves.  It was only another piece of the puzzle Lydia was starting to find the frame for. “Something bad isn’t coming,” she said.  “Something bad is already here.”

X

“So you have a choice to make, Scott.  Join us and realize your true potential,” Deucalion said, his white cane in front of him like a sick joke as his red eyes flashed in total clarity, “or we tear your pack apart.  One by,” a familiar howl echoed in the distance, joined by a strange one, “one.”

X

Isaac and Cora were off searching for the missing girl Stiles had texted about, to be joined by Erica and Boyd.  There was something loose in the woods tonight and Derek wanted to make sure whatever it was didn’t harm a lost human or anyone foolish enough to enter the preserve past sundown.  Derek had decided to head to Stiles so he wasn’t alone.  Scott was with Sasha.  Erica was with Boyd.  Derek trusted Cora to take care of Isaac if not Isaac take care of Cora.  But Stiles was by himself.

“I think they wanna bone each other,” Isaac said once sure Derek was out of ear shot. 

Cora snorted.  “I think they were about to pounce on each other when I found Derek that day.  I think it’s-,” Cora spun and snarled, eyes flashing.  Isaac was only a beat behind her.

A hulking figure stepped out of the shadows with eyes flashing red.  He growled in response, claws at the ready.  

“Two against one,” Isaac said.  “Hardly seems fair.”

Cora could hear the fear in his voice.  “Go,” she said.  “Call Derek.  I’ll take him.”

“Are you kidding me?  Derek would kill me if I left you alone.”

The alpha smirked.  “Your funeral,” he said.

Cora howled.  The alpha roared. 

X

When Derek found Stiles, the beta was locked in battle with what looked like his uncle, moon drunk as if it were his first shift.  Derek’s heart stuttered for a moment seeing Peter after these months.  He could almost fool himself into thinking he was gone for good when his disappearance happened so quickly after his resurrection.  Worse was the way Stiles was struggling to stay on his feet.  “Stiles!” Derek yelled, already shifted and lunging at his uncle.  

His vision was a flurry of teeth and claws, careful to not further cause harm to Stiles.  The beta’s rage was palpable and he could almost see the lecherous vein still connecting Stiles and his former alpha.  Derek managed to get his hand around Peter’s throat, his other holding a wrist while the other hand was pinned behind Peter’s back against a tree.  Peter looked drugged he was so lost to the moon.  Derek struggled to hold Peter.  To his left, Stiles was breathing deeply, willing the lacerations on his face and chest to knit together. 

That was when Cora howled.

X

“Just say the word and I’ll call Ennis off your pack.  Say the wrong one and I might send Kali after your lovely mother.  I don’t want to hurt an innocent bystander,” Deucalion said, opening his arms magnanimously, “but I will.”

X

Derek frantically looked between Stiles and the direction of Cora’s continued sound of fighting.  Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek could hear that or if it was just the initial howl that he worried about, but the dilemma was obvious.  

“Go.” Stiles pushed himself to his feet and squared his shoulders.  “Your sister needs you.”

“But-,”

“I’ll take care of Peter.”  

Derek looked at his uncle and shook his head.  “I don’t know what they did to him, but he’s acting like he’s never shifted before.  I don’t care if he’s evil, he’s actually out of his mind right now and I don’t want him to die because of that.”

“I don’t have to kill him.  I just have to keep him busy until morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.  I can’t leave him alone with you unless I slit his throat again.  He’s too strong right now.”

Stiles placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder.  Cora’s voice rippled through the air again, sounding more like a scream this time, followed by Isaac’s.  

“Go.”

Derek closed his eyes and breathed and wondered how things escalated so fast. 

X

Peter was moon drunk and crazed but he still knew how to wait.  Even as he tore into Stiles, he waited.  Even when Derek showed up, he waited.  Even as he struggled against his nephew’s grip, he waited.  His hand was pinned, but it was readying a shot.  One way or another, Derek would let go his grip just enough, whether to chase his sister or to swipe at Peter’s neck.  So Peter waited and Derek collected himself, much like the first time Peter had lain, frozen in his burns, waiting for the final blow.  And when Derek finally gave him the room to move, Peter gutted him.    

 

 


	13. The Morning

“So what do you say, Scott?” Deucalion smirked. 

“Scott,” Sasha said, her back pressing against his as she sized up the twins.  “If you go with them, I can’t help you anymore.”

“I know,” Scott said.  He rubbed his arm at the circle tattoo wrapping around his bicep.  It had meaning to him, but it had meaning to her, too.  He had done the same gesture when they spoke earlier about what she brought to the table.  Circles.  “I know.”  Scott looked to Deucalion.  “I’ve made my mind.” 

“You sure?” Sasha asked, her left hand already griping the bag at her waist.

“Positive.”

Sasha calculated the distance between her and the alphas.  She could do it, but she wouldn’t make it out. 

“I trust my pack,” Scott said.

In a flash, Sasha threw up the pouch of mountain ash, slicing it open with her blade and _believing._ All six of them were trapped.  The werewolves by the ash, her by the werewolves. 

X

Cora’s breath was labored.  She hung back, putting pressure to the wound on her side, watching in horror as Isaac was being beat to a pulp.  She closed her eyes to the pain.  God, she should have never come back.  There was nothing good in Beacon Hills.  A roar sounded behind her.  

“Come on girl,” Erica said into her ear, snaking her arm around Cora’s torso.  “I thought Hales were tough as nails.”

“My nails are tougher than nails,” Cora coughed as Erica pulled her to her feet.  She dared to open her eyes and saw Boyd pull Isaac out of harm.  

“Good,” Erica said, extending her claws.  “Because we’re going to need them.”

X

“You made a mistake, kid,” Kali sneered, her clawed feet inching forward. 

“Probably,” Scott admitted.  The alphas were inching forward and Sasha’s far too human heart raced behind him.  He didn’t doubt she was tough.  She reminded him of Allison a bit.  

Kali lunged forward.  Sasha darted in front of him, blocking the woman’s kick with her arm and digging her blade into Kali’s calf.  The twins ran into the fray.  Scott rolled as they jumped, reaching out for Sasha.  He managed to grab her forearm.  They had moved just enough from center.  He spun her to him and then away, pushing her out of the circle of ash.  

All the wolves stilled.  

“Go,” Scott said.  “Help the others.”

“They’ll kill you,” she insisted, about to step back into the ring.  

“Not if they really want me in their pack.”

“Scott.”

“Go.”  Scott could make out fighting in the woods and the buzz of the hospital.  Crickets chirped and his own muscled twitched.  “Go.”

“You made a mistake,” Deucalion repeated.  He had lifted his cane and unscrewed the tip of it.  Before Scott could move, Deucalion tossed it like a javelin, piercing Sasha in the chest.  She stumbled backwards as Scott called out her name.  “You don’t get to play hero, Scott.”

Scott yelled her name again, pushing against the invisible barrier between them.    

X

Cora took a breath, pushed Erica into the fight, took another breath, stood tall, and followed.  Her claws were of the toughest metal and this alpha was no diamond.  

X

Scott was repelled back, landing at one of the twin’s feet.  Deucalion was on his phone, speaking to someone about breaking the mountain ash barrier as if everything were still on track.  As if he hadn’t just stabbed a girl.  Scott wanted to throw up.  He got to his feet and called Sasha’s name again, raced the barricade again, he could feel something burn within him, but he was pushed back again.

Sasha coughed up blood, the cane pulled from her chest.  Even now she seemed unbreakable.  

X

The moment Peter’s claws dug into Derek, Stiles moved on instinct.  His hand was around Peter’s throat, replacing Derek’s grip.  He pushed with enough force to drive Peter’s skull into the ground, knocking him off his feet and dislodging his claws from Derek’s stomach.  Stiles roared, fierce and unyielding.  He scrambled for his anchor, holding on tight.  The brink of losing control was a dark place indeed.  Peter sideswiped him, knocking Stiles off the older man.  

They both managed to make it to their feet.  All the time Peter was dead, he was pulling Stiles to the grave with him.  Stiles fought his way to health, then.  Since scenting Peter in the woods, Stiles was fighting for gain, for his own life, for that poison tie to break.  Stiles lunged, lodging his teeth into the junction of Peter’s neck.  Sticky sweet blood pooled in his mouth and he wanted to gag at the taste of decay mingled with the man’s life source.  He bit harder.

Peter howled, clawing desperately at the boy’s back.  He could only think, get off.  Get off, get off, get off.  He was successful, the flare of pain unnoticeable in his small victory.   He chased after his new prey, the one he sent tumbling to the floor.  Stiles was his.  His to command, his to conquer, his to kill.  

X

A woman on a motor bike pulled up next to the circle.  Her helmet covered her face, but it didn’t matter.  Scott was knocked out.  Morrell looked over at the pile of blood just outside the circle, knowing who it must belong to and wondering where she went.  A part of her felt guilty, dragging Sasha into this, but someone needed to help these kids, and it couldn’t be herself.  

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Kali sneered.

Morrell said nothing, merely broke the ash and climbed back onto her bike.  

X

Peter found joy in knocking this boy down again and again.  Stiles simply insisted that he stand and fight.  And Peter’s instinct was enraptured by him.  He nearly missed the company. A sound, off, alerted him.  After knocking Stiles to the ground again, Peter turned and stilled.  A ghost.  A death he’d already given.  The scent less cloying with city smog.  Fresher.  And his moment was gone.  Peter roared at the new threat.

Cora roared in return. She charged, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac right behind her.  This wasn’t her uncle.  This was a mad man with his face.  

Cora dug her claws into his throat where the skin hadn’t managed to heal.  Erica broke his wrist, pulling his arm behind his back and knocking he knees out from under him.  Boyd snagged his other arm, twisting it up.  Cora held her uncle’s head high on his shoulders.  

Isaac ran over to Derek, placing a hand over his still bleeding stomach.  “No,” he whispered.  “No, no, no nononono.”

Stiles joined him, spitting up blood and eyes barely focusing.  He couldn’t smell past the blood.  His blood, Peter’s blood.  Derek’s blood.  Derek.  Derek who smelled impossibly of chai and daffodils and caramelized orange peels and the sunlight after a downpour and cinnamon and warm milk and bitter chocolate and his stupid hair gel and mud and iron and the tears pouring off Stiles’s face as he begs Derek to wake up.  

“If you killed my brother,” Cora said, eyes wide and not daring to look away from Peter.  “If you killed _both my siblings_ when I had the chance to have my family after the fire.”  She couldn’t continue her threat, only tightened her grip around his throat.  Peter only growled and twisted and struggled, even though it only made the tear in his neck worse.  

“Fuck you,” Stiles snapped.  Then softer, “Fuck it.”  He pulled his arm back, fist clenched, and swung, knocking Derek square in the jaw.  

Derek sat up with a gasp, knocking both Isaac and Stiles aside.  He seemed disoriented and still in pain.  Such a wave of relief swept over Stiles, he flung his arms around Derek and burrowed his nose into the crook of his alpha’s neck and just breathed.  The perfect blend of spices.  

A moment later Derek’s hand came up and rested on the small of Stiles’s back.  A few birds chirped.  Stiles smiled into Derek’s neck, not daring to let go.  The sun was rising.  Behind him, the sound of Peter struggling was replaced by the sound of Peter collapsing in exhaustion and Erica questioning what to do with him.  

“I don’t know,” Derek said in response, his voice a deep timber resonating against Stiles’s chest.  “I don’t know.”

Cora sighed out Derek’s name, dropping her uncle to the hands of Erica and Boyd to race over.  She wrapped her arms around her brother, careful to not dislodge Stiles.  

“What happened?” he croaked, resting his head against Cora’s shoulder.  

“We met one of the alphas.  Not long after Erica and Boyd showed up, he just disappeared.”

“Where’s Scott?”  

The wolves looked around, hearts plummeting.  No one knew.  

X

As Melissa was leaving the hospital at the end of her shift, she saw a girl ride her motorcycle into the ER drive.  She stumbled off her bike, blood soaking the front of her shirt.  Melissa yelled for her people inside, EMT’s already on it.  She saw the slashes on the girl’s arm.  The one that had been already wrapped and the fresh ones.  Melissa called her son.  The phone rang four times before Scott’s voice broke over the receiver. 

“ _Mom?”_

X

Scott pressed a hand to his throbbing temple and groaned again into the phone.  “No, Mom.  I’m fine, really.  Just.  Rough night.  Full moon.  All that jazz.”  He heard a car zoom by.  He wasn’t far from the road.  The alphas must have kicked him out of the way when they left if the state of his ribs way anything to go by.

“ _And this has nothing to do with girl who came into the ER just now?”_

“Girl, what girl?” Scott asked, snapped to attention.  His heart sped, remembering the way Sasha definitely climbed onto her bike.

“ _Pretty.  About your age.  Black, wavy hair, a little short.  Oh, and bleeding from her chest plus multiple claw marks across her body.”_ She joked, but Scott could hear how distressed she was.  

“Sasha,” he whispered, jumping to his feet and looking around as if the threat would pounce at any second.

“ _Uh huh,_ ” Melissa huffed, unimpressed.  “ _You still have school in two hours.  If you expect this to be an excuse, you have another thing coming.  I better not get a call from your teachers.”_

Scott’s phone buzzed.  He pulled back to see an incoming call from Isaac.  “I promise I’ll be there, mom.  I gotta go.  Take care of Sasha for me.  Kay?”

“ _Okay.  Try to get some rest before class.”_

“Thanks.”

Scott switched over the call just in time to catch sight of his bike.  Broken, lying in a ditch.  Just perfect.

“ _Scott?  Scott where are you?”_

Scott closed his eyes, breathed out deeply.  Everything hurt and he was trying not to freak out over his bike.  “Somewhere on 28,” he said.  “In a ditch on the side of the road.”  

There was a garble of people talking on the other line.  Scott slumped against a tree, balefully staring at his beat up bike.  He’d have to save up a bit to get it in working order again.

 _“Don’t worry, buddy,”_ Stiles voice said over the others.  _“We’re coming to get you_.”

X

Two hours later, Stiles and Scott rolled into school, chugging coffee.  They spotted Lydia by her locker, looking just as haggard.  Well, as haggard as Lydia Martin could ever look, which was still nearly perfect.  

“We have a problem,” she said, knowing they could hear her.  She clenched her jaw, her lips pulled tight.  Stiles didn’t like seeing Lydia so stressed.  He hurried his way over to her.  “And I’m not talking about those stupid alphas.”

The bell rang.  “Come on,” Scott said.  “We’ll talk about it after English.”

Lydia’s heart skipped.  

 


	14. The New and Old

“I’m here looking for Sasha,” Scott said to the nurse manning the front desk.  His mom wasn’t on shift yet, so he had to go through protocol.  “Sasha Braeden?”  

The nurse smiled at Scott, knowing him from his frequent visits.  She tapped away at her keyboard, searching the name a few times over.  “Sorry, we don’t have anyone of that name in our system,” she said with a frown.  

Scott scratched the back of his head.  As far as he knew, that was an alias.  Or she might have been a Jane Doe, if she’s not awake yet.  “She came in last night, or early this morning really.  Had a stab wound in her chest and claw marks, according to my mom.”  

The nurse nodded, her frown turning into a worried half-smile.  “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about.  She just got out of surgery a few hours ago, is still sedated.  She didn’t have any identification on her.  Sasha Braeden, you said?” 

“As far as I know,” he said.  “Can I still see her?”

The nurse worried at her bottom lip.  Technically, no.  But she knew Scott fairly well and she and Melissa were friends.  He obviously cared for this girl.  “Room 327, but be quick about it.”

“Promise.”

Scott jaunts off down the hall.  He’s had these corridors memorized for years.  It didn’t take him long to climb the stairs, the elevator too full of someone in a moving bed.  He was a turn away when he froze.  Something wasn’t right.  Scott sniffed the air.  There was power nearby.  Strength that clogged the air like tar, the same as he felt surrounded by alphas the night before.  

Cautious, Scott turned the corner and made his way to Sasha’s room.  She wasn’t alone, and Scott knew the man standing over her wasn’t a nurse, despite the scrubs.  He growled at the stranger.  The hulking form of a man turned to him and smirked, his eyes flashing red.  

X

“Oh, god,” Stiles whined.  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“We are going to visit the man who turned me insane, Stiles,” Lydia said with a flip of her hair.  “And I’m fine.”  She pursed her lips and headed up the stairs of loft Derek had found.  His apartment with Isaac wasn’t the largest and now with Cora staying there it made sense to have a separate location for pack business.  The building was pretty run down, but it was the perfect place to store the psychotic-undead-werewolf they had.  

“No, it’s not like nerves,” Stiles said, clutching his gut as if to massage away some indigestion.  “I feel weaker around him.  It’s the like part of the bite that almost killed me is connected with Peter, and now that he’s alive and we’re in close proximity, the tie I have to him is making me sick again.  I wanted to puke when we were out in the woods, but total rage pushed it down.”

Lydia huffed in dismissal, although she gave him a frown of assessment.  It wasn’t much longer before they were opening the doors and greeted by Cora.  She looked haggard, awake too long worrying.  Stiles wondered what Cora’s relationship to Peter was like before the fire.  She seemed angry and tired and on the verge of snapping, so he could imagine, if not how they were, then how they are now.

Peter was trapped in a mountain ash circle Deaton had made that morning, lounging back, completely unapologetic for having gone insane last night.

“Oh, Stiles, good to see you.  Glad to know you survived after your winter formal.”

Lydia tensed beside him as Peter’s eyes landed on her.  

“And you,” Peter smirked. “The woman of death to bring me back to life.”

Stiles rolled his shoulders back.  He didn’t like the way Peter looked at Lydia.  He didn’t want her anywhere near him.  After last time, and knowing she won’t heal like the others, the urge to protect his friend was hard to ignore.  But Stiles couldn’t do anything if he wanted to, not with the mountain ash in place.  He suppressed the shift and ignored the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Both he and Lydia turned from Peter, ignoring his commentary in favor of settling on the couch and pulling out school work while they waited.  Stiles already knew Derek wasn’t here.  Couldn’t hear his heart anywhere in the building.

“Derek should be back soon,” Cora told them, irritation evident.  “Timing couldn’t be more terrible.”

Stiles closed his eyes, mentally beating himself for forgetting.  She was right.  Timing was terrible.  First day of training for the sheriff department.  “Derek should have just postponed,” Stiles said.  

“Yeah, well,” Cora shrugged, sitting next to them and picking up one of Lydia’s books.  “Life stops for no one.”

X

Scott’s back collided with the wall and he slid to the ground before pulling himself back up.  He really hoped no one was watching the security footage right now.  Ennis had him beat, and Scott knew it, especially since he was tag-teaming with Kali.  Scott couldn’t take on one alpha, let alone two.  His only consolation was that they wanted him, so they wouldn’t go so far as to kill him.  He took another punch to the stomach.  Hopefully didn’t kill him, at least.

He just needed to make sure they didn’t kill Sasha.  He’d been able to get Ennis away from the room and down another wing before Kali joined him.  Scott hoped none of the other alphas were here.  Kali kicked his legs out from under him and Ennis got his claws into his shoulder.  That’s when another beta roared.  Erica was at the end of the hall, already shifting.  

X

Peter was chatting without pause.  Normally, Stiles didn’t mind talk, but god did he want to punch Peter in the face.  He was trying to rile them up, so they were trying to ignore him.  Surprisingly, it was Lydia who snapped.  She pushed herself off the couch and reaches into her purse.  Every angle of her body is taunt hard lines as she pulls out a mini cross bow and aims it at Peter.

“Whoa, have you been carrying that around _all day_?” Stiles asked, flailing a bit at the sight.  

“Allison left it with me,” she told him simply before leveling with Peter.  “I _will_ shoot.”

“I think I like her,” Cora said.

“Sorry, hun,” Lydia said, not looking away from Peter, “I’m already spoken for.” 

Stiles stood and put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder.  “Be rational.  We don’t want to give him anything pointy.”  

She flares her nostrils in a way to bite back her frustration.  Every ounce of her body was yelling to expand, explode, but she was Lydia, the only smart one among them.  She lowered her weapon, keeping eyes locked with a silently smirking Peter.  “One more word,” she warned, “and I’ll knock you out first and then stab you full of this stuff and you’ll be stuck and no one will be able to get in to help you.”

Peter mimed zipping his lips, but he still looked far to amused for any of them to relax.  It was moments later, Lydia still silently fuming, crossbow resting by her side in the middle of the loft, when Derek entered and asked what was going on.

“The Sheriff found that missing girl’s body last night,” Lydia started with, still glaring at Peter.  “Same cause of death as the boy at the pool and the guy who went missing from your friend’s party,” she said with a side glance to Stiles.  

“It’s called the three-fold death,” Stiles started to explain.  "Lydia had read about before on it and I spent my free period today looking it up.  I think her theory’s right.”

“Which is?” Cora prompted.  

“Our new English teacher has this smell about her,” Stiles said, “like mistletoe and death.”

“I told this to Deaton,” Lydia picked up, finally turning away from Peter.  “And about the deaths and what I thought they meant.”

“And?” Cora prompted again, getting frustrated.  

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other briefly before Lydia finally said it out loud.  “The scent, it’s something that Miss Blake gives off because of the type of power she’s been dealing with.  Dark magic.  Blood magic.  She’s sacrificing these people for power.  We don’t know why.”

“We also have no proof to lead the investigation to her,” Stiles slumped.  “Just my nose.  That’ll really hold up in the court of law.”  Too many things going on, Stiles thought.   “Oh, and Scott said the alpha pack is here because they want him to join their pack.  They may be propositioning you, too, Derek.  So watch out.”

X

The fight somehow led them to the roof, needing to get away from civilian eye.  Boyd and Isaac had shown up, Erica having texted them before running up to help Scott.  He still didn’t know how she knew to come, but wasn’t going to question things as the four of them took on the two alphas.  It was difficult, but a summer of training and they had really fallen into line together.  They weren’t perfect, but they knew each other’s cues and how to help each other out.  Kali and Ennis, for all their experience, were two very different fighters.  And while they seemed in tune with each other, they still tripped each other up.  

Somehow, Scott landed a kick on Ennis, having launched himself off Boyd’s broad hands, giving him an extra push.  The bulking alpha fell back and they were close enough to the edge that… Ennis lost his balance.  Kali and Erica were sparing on the other end.  She called out to him, and Scott saw how Ennis could easily right himself, but he was too far away to help or hurt, still standing from the force of kicking Ennis.  Isaac, though, was the fastest.  In a blink, he had kicked at Ennis’ ankles, just enough to keep him off balance.  Just enough to make him fall.

Screams erupted from the street.  People were calling for help from inside.  The sound of Erica and Kali stopped before Kali roared, racing down the fire escape to reach the ground as quickly as possible.  Shaking, Scott looked over the edge where Isaac stood, still and gaping.  

Ennis’s was sprawled on the pavement below, a pool of blood and awkward limbs.  

The four betas looked between each other.  God, what were they becoming?

X

“What are we going to do about him?” Stiles asks Derek, frowning.  They’re huddled in the kitchen even though it’s nonfunctioning and there’s no food.  It gives enough of a barrier to Peter that they don’t have to feel his eyes on them as they talk.

“I don’t know,” Derek sighed, frustrated.

“I vote we kill him,” Lydia snarks, her fingers twitching for the crossbow she had placed on the counter.  She wasn’t the best shot, but Peter wasn’t exactly a moving target right now.

Stiles noticed the way Derek’s knuckles turned white against his forearms.  He could hear Derek’s teeth grind together and smell the tang of regret.  Stiles put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, a light touch he hoped Derek wouldn’t snap at.  “I know you didn’t want to kill him the first time round, and that it was hard for you.  And I know it’s hard, because even after everything, he’s still family.  And none of you are the same as you were before the fire, but Peter’s dangerous.”

Derek looked to Stiles, then the hand on his shoulder.  Stiles took it off, even though the look didn’t seem to imply it was unwelcome.  Cora cleared her throat and crossed her arms.  “I shouldn’t make the call,” she said.  “I was eleven the last time I saw him.  To me he’s a stranger with a familiar face, and one that almost killed a brother I’ve just been able to accept is really here.  So.  He’s not my family, Derek.  You are.  But he’s your family.  So, it’s your call.”

A prick of blood swelled from here Derek had a hold of his arm.  “I don’t know,” he said again.  “I don’t know.”

X

No one else had come into Sasha’s room since Scott lured Ennis away.  She was still asleep.  “How’d you know to find me?” he asked Erica.  Isaac and Boyd were tracking Ennis and Kali throughout the hospital to figure out their situation. 

“Did you know I still have to come in for check-ups on my epilepsy?  Because I do.  I heard you from the waiting room.”

Scott nodded.   It made sense.  Sasha began to stir and his attention was diverted.  She blinked her eyes open and took in the two visitors.  

“Hey Sasha,” he said, slipping into the chair by her bed.  “How are you feeling?”

“Manageable,” she coughed.  He handed her the cup of water waiting on the stand.  “Thanks.”  After a sip of water, she asked what he was doing here.

Scott shrugged.  “Just checking up on you before work.  Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She smiled.  “Call me Brae,” she offered, handing the cup back with a twinge of pain.  As their fingers touched, Scott pulled some pain.  

“Okay, Brae.  Um, if you have any, I’d maybe put some mountain ash around yourself.  Two of the alpha’s were here earlier.  Protect yourself.  If the janitors don’t sweep it up.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving Scott a wave of dismissal.  When he turned, Erica was still there, giving Scott and appraising look.  

“What?” he asked, once they were out the hall.  

She shook her head.  “Just thought it was a little soon after Allison.  I mean, the absolute _pinning_ I had to listen to this summer,” she laughed.

Scott frowned, pouted more like it.  “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not.”

X

“Fine,” Lydia said, picking up her bow.  “We’ll figure it out later.”  Even as she said this, she headed to the main room and shoots Peter in the shoulder.  “It’s not laced. He’s fine,” she says over his yell of pain.  She flips her hair over her shoulder and collects her things.  “Come on, Stiles.  You’re brining me to Jackson’s.”

Stiles shoots Derek an apologetic smile.  He had hoped to talk to him.  But this was probably better.  He needed space.  They needed space, to take a step back from each other.  Derek almost dying didn’t affect Stiles’s opinion on that at all.  He wouldn’t let it.

His eyes were still on Derek until he could no longer see him, and his ears held his heartbeat until they drove away and everything was swallowed by the roar of his engine.  

 


	15. The Knot

After being dropped off, Lydia quickly found herself in the crook of Jackson’s arm, head on his shoulder, hand carting through her hair.  It was a familiar position, and she held onto it like a life preserver.  “I feel like I’m losing myself,” she confessed.  “Peter’s back but I’m still blacking out.  I found a dead body last night, Jackson.”  Her voice didn’t tremble, but it was a near thing. 

“You’re not losing yourself,” he told her, moving just the slightest so their bodies slotted even closer together on the couch.  “It’s been a storm.  We’ve all been through too much, learned too much, to have not changed from the experiences.  And we’re going through another one.  A hurricane this time.  Stiles is back, there’s the alphas, the string of killings, and tomorrow I’m getting the bite,” he said.  “But we can survive this.  We’re all losing ourselves, but we’re also finding ourselves.”  He willed it to be true, that he would be finding himself, a place among a new family.  A place among his current one.  “I told my parents I loved them this morning,” he whispered. 

Lyida looked up, eyes searching in wild hope.  She kissed him gently.  “I shot Peter with a crossbow.”

Jackson laughed and kissed her again.  “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah,” she said, pressing against her shirt to feel the key underneath, hanging from her neck.  “I know.  You ready for the bite tomorrow?”

He squeezed her shoulder.  “Yeah.  I really am.”

X

If at all possible, the next day things picked up.  A senior was found tied to a tree during gym class.  Scott said he was the owner of a dog he was taking care of the night before.  It hit Boyd hard.  He and Kyle were friends in JROTC together.  Lydia gave his arm a squeeze before class.  “Go talk to Erica.”  She and Boyd weren’t exactly friends, but she recognized his potential to be someone who she could confide in.  Besides, she wanted to facilitate the budding romance between the two.

It was cute and they were part of the same group now.  Lydia needed a little lightness in her life with all the crap going on.  She headed to AP US History. 

Lydia was drawing a tree.  “That’s a nice drawing,” Danny said.

“I know.”

“Maybe you should take art.  Since you’re not in band.”

Lydia looked up, frowned.  She was in the music room, Danny had his trumpet out.  Her heart was began to beat wildly.  She didn’t remember anything after leaving Boyd. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.  “What’s going on?”

Lydia looked at Danny, panic evident in her eyes.  “I don’t know.  I don’t remember coming here.”

Danny reached over and squeezed Lydia’s hand.  “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.  Go visit Jackson since Derek’s making him take the day off.” 

Someone calls 15 minutes.  “Guess that means we can leave.  Teacher’s not coming.”  Danny squeezed her hand again.  The rest of the class started to leave and Danny packed up and told her to go home again. 

X

“Lydia?” Stiles raced into the music room, Deaton behind him.  They had both gotten a call. 

“She took the music teacher,” she said, explained the weird music, explain how she could just _feel_ it.  “Harris,” she whispered, horrified.  She races over to the science wing, Stiles on her heels. 

“What?  Lydia, you can’t just racing off.  What about Harris?”

His room is empty, pile of papers half graded.  “Lydia, this paper is graded H.”

Deaton walked over and spread out the papers.  They spelled out Darach.  “We were right,” Lydia said, wanting to cry.  “God, I hate being right sometimes.” 

“What?” Stiles asked, not knowing how Lydia knew to come to Harris’s office.

“That thing you say about threes?” Lydia offered.  “Patterns.  She’s sacrificing them in threes because it’s a knot.”

“How many of my books have you read?” Deaton asked. 

Lydia waved him on, just continuing without pause.  “I’m sure of it.  I think I know what’s she’s doing.”

“I’m still confused about Harris,” Stiles said.

“The second set of three.  Military.” She looked to Deaton.  “Warriors.”

Deaton frowned.  Well, more than he already was, and crossed his arms.  “You think she’s trying to complete the five fold.”

“The what?” Stiles asked.  He did not like the idea of not understanding what was going on.

“It’s a way of making a deal with the supernatural, making sacrifices to take the power of what unifies the three,” Lydia said, recalling the book she had read.  “Think of it like a puzzle, taking power from different sources and when she’s complete she’ll be Dark Willow.”

“You watch Buffy?” Stiles grinned.  Lydia glared.  “Right, not the time.”

“My sister did,” she commented.

There was a moment of awkward silence, Stiles shuffled.  He remembered, vaguely, Lydia’s sister, who had died in a car crash the same night as his mother. Stiles cleared his throat.  “So, why do you think she’s doing this?”

Lydia shook her head.  “I still don’t know.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised.

X

Stiles slunk home after school.  His English teacher was killing people and he still had to write her stupid essay.  His dad looked like he hadn’t slept the last few nights.  “How about we eat red meat tonight,” Stiles offered.  “Because I almost don’t care right now.”

The sheriff laughed, hooking his arm around Stiles’s shoulders.  “You know, I’m going to do that, because any excuse to eat steak.” 

Stiles hit his head against the fridge.  “Too many things are happening.”

“Yeah,” his dad said, rubbing Stiles’s neck.  “I know.” 

That, of course, is when the doorbell rang.  Stiles heaved a sigh and headed over to the front door.  “Please let this not be another emergency.”

He opened the door and froze.  “Hi, Aunt Clare.”

“Hey, Stiles,” she smiled.  “Can I come in?”

Too many things are happening.

X

“So, Clare,” John started out, “what brought you up here?”

Clare sat at the table as Stiles and John worked on making dinner.  She had a glass of wine and a bashful expression.  Stiles had never seen his aunt this awkward in the months he lived with her. 

“Just, it was nice, this summer, reconnecting with Stiles,” she said in that voice so close her sister’s.  “And I thought it was about time that I stopped… not talking to you.”

John put down a plate in front of Clare with a small smile.  “Well, I’m glad.  You’re always family and always welcome.”

They all sat down for dinner and Stiles couldn’t help but think this was the worst time for a visit.

X

“We have a new problem,” Stiles said, thumping his head against his locker.  “My aunt’s staying with us for the week.”

Scott groaned.  “That can’t be good.”  He leaned against the lockers briefly before popping back up with a frown.  “Oh, dude.  The cross country trip is this weekend.  I probably should try to get out of it, right?”

“What? Why?”

Scott rolled his eyes.  “Because there’s like real danger and your aunts in town and I can’t just leave you behind all by myself.”

Stiles gave Scott a blank look.  “Dude, I’m not going to be alone.  Derek will be here, Cora will be here, Erica and Lydia and _Brae_ will be here.”  Scott flushed, causing Stiles to smirk.  “My dad has wolfsbane bullets and is pretty kickass.”  Stiles opened his locker and pulled out his books for first period.  “A weekend without you, Jackson, Isaac and Boyd isn’t going to kill us.  Well it might, but it’s not likely.  Jackson’s help definitely won’t be missed because he’s still pretty new to the whole gig.  And it’s not like we can formulate an attack strategy.  The Darach is after people at seemingly random and the alphas are after you, potentially Derek.”

Boyd came over then.  “A weekend without us could be a problem,” he said, joining the conversation without preamble.  “Ennis was checked into the hospital, too damaged from that fall to heal.  After you went to work Isaac and I kept scout.  Kali sounded _pissed_ that night.”

“Did Ennis die?” Stiles asked, wary.

Boyd merely gave them a look tell them they were stupid. 

“Of course he’s dead,” Stiles groaned.  “This should be a good thing but I have a feeling Kali is going to want revenge, right.”  Boyd gave him another look before walking away.  Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder.  “Come on.  Don’t worry about this weekend.  We’ll be fine.”

From down the hall, Boyd told them he’s personally looking forward to being out of town as long as Jared doesn’t puke like he did on the drive to the history museum last year.

“Ugh, gross, that’s right!” Scott wrinkled his nose as he began to head to Econ.  “Freaking Jared.”

X

The rest of the week passed with silence.  There were no more sacrifices even though Lydia’s research said she would be going after more next and, depending on what the first group signified meant what the pattern was, so they couldn’t determine the next target until more people died.  Stiles wanted to punch something at times because of that.  They tried to keep an eye on Blake, but it always seemed that she just slipped away.  More damning evidence, in Stiles’s opinion, but it wasn’t anything they could _use_.

The alpha pack was also silent.  Waiting.  Making new plans, Derek was sure.  They were trying to ignore Peter, but there were times when he said some pretty thought provoking things.  Derek thought he was right on some things.  The last full moon hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but mainly because their plans up to that point had been rapidly changing.  They weren’t as stable as they appeared.  Peter didn’t know about Ennis’s death, but that could only have shaken up their dynamic even more. 

Sasha was released from the hospital, still coyly giving Scott the eye.  Stiles found it amusing how flustered Scott got.  And he was the only one who could call her Brae.  Stiles got away with Braeden, which was somehow a term of closer relationship despite it being her last name.  Turns out she was a little older than them, but not by much.  Younger than Derek, by any means, and that was an apparently acceptable age distance.  She insisted on going on the trip with Scott.  “If you think it’s dangerous for your pack members who are with their alpha, it’s more dangerous for the four betas on their own.  I’m following behind.  Make sure you don’t trip and die.” 

Stiles would have thought it funny, but that _was_ technically how Ennis bit the bullet. 

In the end they had nothing to worry about.  They made it all the way there only to have the meet be canceled because of a big storm rolling in.  Jared threw up on the way back though.  Had to stop for twenty minutes at a gas station to clean it out.  The storm looked bad though.  TV’s were already putting up caution warnings for the next day.  

Stiles's aunt planned to leave once it passed.


	16. The Call

“Are you sure you don’t wanna leave today?” Stiles asked from the couch, bowl of cereal propped up on his chest from his slumped, half laying position.  It was Sunday.  He was damn going to eat Lucky Charms and watch TV all day if he could get away with it.  “You still got time before the roads get dark.  The News says the storm is heading away from here, might even tapper off before ever reaching Beacon Hills.  That place track was going to have their meet did get hit pretty hard though.  You should be fine to drive down.  You’d be going away from the storm anyway.”

Clare was in the kitchen, starting on a dinner for all them.  “I still have a few days of vacation time.  Might as well use them,” she said.

Stiles grimaced around his spoonful of marshmallows.  He didn’t like her being in town.  It was nice, sure.  They got along well enough, and it was nice seeing his dad open up about his mom without being drunk, but he knew Clare was in danger by being here.  

Of course, that’s when he gets the call from Scott saying that two doctors are missing and that Danny was in the hospital.

“What do you mean _Danny_ is in the hospital,” Stiles said, shooting up in his seat. He could smell the change in Clare’s scent: second hand worry like moldy marmalade.  

“Jackson brought him in.  Mom had to do the thing with a needle for his lung because the two doctors on call for the ER weren’t there!” Scott freaked into the phone.  “The police have already been called.  Your dad should been here soon.”

Stiles sighed and frowned at his fish PJs.  “I’ll be there in fifteen.’

He rushed to put on pants and hop into his Jeep telling Clare he’d be back soon.  When he got there, the police had already taken Melissa’s statement and Scott was holding a dead moth.  “I found it in one of the doctor’s cars.”   Scott frowned, turning it over in his hand.  “And Danny spit up mistletoe when my mom saved him.”

“Why was the Darach after Danny?” Stiles asked, taking the moth from Scott.  It was the same death scent as Miss Blake.  “Here take this,” he slapped the moth back in Scott’s hand and raced down the hall, following the scent of Armani and mistletoe.  Jackson was in Danny’s room, holding his hand and frowning.  Jackson was having control issues since his bite last week, but the turn was successful.  More so than Stiles, at least.  It still got to Stiles at times that he was the only one who had trouble with the change.  Then again, Jackson was the one with flashing gold eyes.

“Hey Jackson,” Stiles said, giving him a curt clap on the shoulder.  “So, now, can you tell me what you were doing when this happened?  Any reason Danny would have been targeted?  I mean, he knows about werewolves but it’s not like we had him on the hunt for the Darach.”

Jackson growled.  “The _what_?”

Stiles blinked twice then furrowed his brow.  “Has Lydia not been relating to you?  Sorry.”  Stiles sat down on the other side of Danny.  “Our new English teacher is evil, she’s been sacrificing people.  She attacked Danny, but not as a sacrifice.  So, like, why?”

Jackson shuffled in his chair, careful not to squeeze Danny’s hand to tight.  “We were just hanging out at mine.  He went in to get drinks and began to,” Jackson growled lightly then snapped his head up to Stiles.  “Our English teacher is evil!?” 

X

They couldn’t just hash it out then, and time passed, and then it was Monday and they had to grit their teeth through another day of school and evil English.  

Of course, that was when Scott got a call from Deaton.

He pulled Stiles aside in the hall, whispering fiercely of what had happened.  Deaton is missing.  “Deaton?”

“Yeah, he called me _as he was about to be kidnapped_ , dude!” Scott yelled over the phone.  “He said he was going to be next and that I would have to find him.

Stiles frowned.  Two doctors and a vet.  “I’ll meet up with you at the clinic.  I gotta find Lydia.”  Stiles darted down the hall to the art room where Lydia was with Isaac.  “God I’m stupid,” he told himself.  He didn’t know how he missed it last night, too worried about Danny he supposed.  

“This better be good, Stiles,” Lydia opened with when Stiles skirted to a stop in front of her.  The teacher hadn’t shown up yet.  Stiles pulled Lydia away from the classmates who don’t know shit to talk to her.   

“Healers,” he said, knowing Isaac was listening in from the other end of the room.

“What?”

“The third group of sacrifices.  Healers.”

“Are you positive?” Lydia asked, her tone now serious and alert.

“Yeah.”

Lydia marched away to her bag and pulled out a book.  Vanilla and cracked leather, really old.  Still dusty in parts.  She flipped it open to a marked page and then thumbed through before pinning a finger on a particular line.

“Well,” she said, “at least we know which pattern she locked into.  With the second and third being warriors and healers respectively, the first must have been virgins, making the next… philosophers.”  

“And after that?”

“Guardians.”

“Scott said Deaton’s gone missing, so if he dies, he’s the last of the healers.  We have to find him.”

Isaac jolted up and headed out of the classroom.  “He’s calling Derek,” Stiles told Lydia.  “You stay here and keep tabs on Blake.”  

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she huffed.  “Keep me updated!” she yelled out the room.  The other class mates gave her a weird look.  She merely shrugged as if none of what just transpired was odd.  

X

Stiles met up with Scott, getting the info on Deaton’s disappearance and the added info on HOLY FUCK OUR GUIDANCE COUNCELOR IS DEATON’S SISTER.  Very surprising revelation.  Isaac pulled Boyd out of gym and headed to the loft where Peter was being held to meet up with Derek.  According the texts on Stiles’s phone from Isaac, Derek was hella pissed that the alpha pack had painted on the window of his apartment.  The loft wouldn’t have mattered, it was a piece of shit anyway, but no, they mucked up the nice apartment.  

Stiles snorted, imagining Derek seething over interior decorating.  These texts were golden.  He was shot a look from Scott and pocketed his phone with and embarrassed shrug.  “Sorry,” he mouthed. 

X

Events that followed: 

Scott and Stiles go back to school.  

Stiles finds Lydia and has her try various methods of psychic readings to help find Deaton.

Deucalion is there, singling out Scott.  He’s told to follow the currents. 

Boyd comes up with a brilliant idea to flood the loft to electrocute Kali.  However, flooding the floor meant they needed to move Peter.  

Lydia draws a tree.   She suggests talking to Danny despite the fact he was still sort of out of it. 

Danny’s somewhat lucid when Stiles visits.  Stiles explains that the Darach has been killing people and attacked Danny for some reason.  The location of the bodies sounds familiar.  Danny tells Stiles to look in his back pack and pull out his science project.  “There’s currents in Beacon Hills, of energy flow,” Danny mumbled.  “Death follow them, sort of.”

Stiles thanks Danny and finds Scott to lead him to Deaton.  Scott goes after the vet, telling Stiles to help Derek.  According to the texts from Isaac, Derek was planning a showdown at the loft.

Scott found Deaton, behind a wall of mountain ash.  He could feel it, he told Stiles later, he almost pushed through.

The Sheriff saved Deaton using good old fashioned deduction skills.  And a gun.

When Stiles reached the weird loft, it was chaos.  There was water everywhere, Peter was loose since they couldn’t find someone who could handle mountain ash, Peter was fighting Cora, she was dominating, Boyd and Isaac were tag teaming the fusion twins, failing epically, and Derek was fighting Kali, with Erica by his side.  

He could smell the electricity in the air.  The storm was coming.  Somewhere, far away, Lydia screamed in her sleep.  It rang in all their ears.   

 

 

 

 


	17. The Surge

Stiles roared and shifted, charging after Peter.  He and Cora were the closest to the door.  One mess at a time, he thought.  Together, it was easy to bend Peter to his knees.  Between him and Cora, they carried Peter like a pig up the stairs and away from the chaos.  Cora found some chains and together they were able to secure him to a post in what Stiles could only assume was supposed to be the master bedroom.  

Stiles turned to Cora.  “What’s with the water?” 

She shrugged.  “We were going to electrocute the bitch.  They cut the power.”  

Stiles nodded absently, thinking his way through video tutorials he binged watched last year: how to hot wire a car, how to hook up a generator, how to fix a blown fuse.  “I can fix that,” he smirked.  “I can fix that.”

He dashed to the window and sped down the fire escape.  

Cora leaves him to it, running back to join the others.  _How quickly things turn to shit_ , she thought.  Boyd and Isaac were unconscious in the corner, the twins had pulled Erica away from Kali.  Derek was struggling, but Erica was going to die if she didn’t do something.  She raced in, only to be knocked back.  _Hurry_ , she prayed of Stiles.

Outside Stiles scrambled with a fusebox, ignoring the jolts of electricity that would occasionally shoot down his nerves.  Had he still been human, he would be doing this carefully, hesitantly, and internally freaking out.  Electricity can dull the ability to shift, and enough of this stuff could kill Kali, but the frayed, exposed wire wasn’t going to kill him outright.  

The ever familiar sound of a way too fancy car turned onto the road.  Stiles turned to see Jackson’s silver Porsche.  “Good, just in time,” Stiles said, knowing Jackson could hear him from across the road as he got out of the car.  Stiles didn’t bother asking how Jackson knew they needed backup.  He figured the newest beta had been with Lydia when she screamed and Stiles had a theory about that.  “Come here, and flip this switch when I give the signal.”

Jackson jogged over, asking what the hell was going on and what signal.  Stiles just positioned him in front of the fusebox.  

“I’ll yell your fricking name, just to make it clear,” Stiles rolled his eyes, dashing off.  He needed to make sure none of his pack were in the water when Jackson fried them.  Stiles followed the sound of fighting, keeping an ear out for Jackson and confident that, over the noise of everything in the loft, no one heard their interaction.  

Stiles quickly took stock of the situation.  Erica was slammed against the wall as he entered, sliding down in a slip of blood and unconsciousness.  Boyd roared, pushing himself onto his feet on the opposite corner and charging the mega!twin that, oh god, they could do that.  Stiles had read somewhere, but hadn’t expected anything so… big.  Cora attacked the mega!twin’s back as it turned to face Boyd.  Isaac was out.  Derek was losing.  

In, out.  One deep breath was enough time to figure out his course of action.  Stiles ran to Isaac, who was the most unguarded, and threw him over the kitchen counter that sectioned off that area.  Cora and Boyd were sloshing around in the water, but nobody had seemed to pay him any mind yet, so Stiles darted across the room to scoop up Erica’s limp body and place her on the old dresser nearby.  “TABLES!” he yelled, gaining the attention of the alphas, but Boyd understood.  He rounded the mega!twin and wrapped his hand around Cora’s wrist, pulling her quickly to the half broken coffee table.  Stiles himself was on the dresser, perching, hunched over Erica. “JACKSON!” he yelled the second Derek jumped into the air.  A heartbeat later the room buzzed, alive with streaks of lightning.  

For a moment, Stiles prayed to his mother that everything would turn in their favor.  

Derek grabbed hold of a pipe beam above him and swung onto a counter.  Through the soles of their shoes, the twins buzzed into separation, just managing to scramble onto a platform Boyd and Isaac had set up when flooding the place.  Kali, however, collapsed to the floor with a writhing splash.  A cry on her lips, a fading roar, the acrid stench of burning: tighter than from fire, more ozone.  

But then the electricity cut off.  Stiles strained to hear Jackson outside and instead caught the sound of two heartbeats, just outside the loft door, one beating rapidly in fear. 

“That wasn’t very smart of you,” a man said, an accent Stiles couldn’t place.  _Deucalion,_ Stiles thought.  The alpha stepped into the doorframe and Stiles’s breath caught.  Behind Deucalion’s claws was the throat of his aunt Clare.  “I knocked your puppy out,” he said with a faint smirk, implying what happened to Jackson and the electricity.  

Stiles swallowed, his eyes on his aunt.  She was blinking back tears, eyes moving without really seeing, too afraid to focus.  Her sight did settle, on Stiles, gaze questioning and confused.  Stiles didn’t dare move. 

There’s a roar to his right and Stiles turns to take in the scene.  Cora and Boyd knocked out, Derek on his knees, a twin flanking each side, holding him down, Derek was struggling, but he was too hurt to fight any more.   Peter standing before him, claws out, ready to kill.

The alpha pack wants alphas.  Derek would never join them, but Peter would do anything for that kind of power. 

A yell of protest found its way from Stiles as he lunged, only thinking _no_.  He raced and jumped between the two Hales.  A sting of pain jarred his senses as Peter’s claws tore into the muscle of his arm, but it didn’t matter.  It was enough.  Stiles roared at Peter, attacking, slashing wildly.  It was enough distraction that Derek was able to knock back one of the twins, a second wind searing through his veins as he fought back, weary but determined.  

“Stop that,” Deucalion said simply, the tip of his claws pricking into Clare’s throat.  

Stiles froze, the scent of his aunt like a brick wall.  Peter got his claws in him and Stiles gasped.  He could feel his own blood on his tongue.  

An echo of his name.  Derek.  Clare.  He turned his head to seek out the voices.  

Then Stiles heard it, scent still faint, muted somehow, and he smiled, his body going limp, skewered on Peter’s hand.  “Scott,” he mumbled.

As if in slow motion, Stiles watched an arrow pierce Deucalion, Braeden racing in and pulling Clare out of the way.  Scott leaped in, a roar.  Stiles didn’t even register hitting the water.  He saw Jackson, still healing, but okay, joining.  His hearing seemed to have muffled.  He couldn’t focus past the taste on his tongue and the scent of copper and fear and electricity.  He coughed and barely registered hands on him, warmth, being held up.  

It sounded like a mile away when Derek screamed his name in his ear.  Somehow the words made it through.  “Please,” Derek begged.  “Stay with me.  I know you want to live.”

Stiles blinked up to see Derek’s face, broken and open.  Over his shoulder, Stiles saw Brae.  Her mouth was moving, but Stiles couldn’t hear.  He blinked and was on his back, Derek holding his hand as someone else stitched his side, the pull of thread surreal on his skin.  

He blinked and Lydia was standing over him, looking horrified and afraid, her breath catching when she caught his eye.  He blinked and Clare was there, and his dad.  He blinked and they were gone.  He blinked and he felt warm, and comforted, and rested, and _alive._

It was raining.  He could smell the petrichor and hear the patter against window.  He was on a bed, not a hospital one, it was far too comfortable, and there was an arm wrapped around him, loose and possessive at the same time.  The impossible combination of scents that was Derek hit him at once, flooding his senses.  Stiles breathed in deep, relaxed muscles he hadn’t known he tensed, and closed his eyes.  

X

“You’re going to kill yourself!” Scott yelled, eyes spilling over with tears as the Sheriff stood by, holding Clare’s hand. “Brae can’t help anymore.  Deaton can’t help anymore.  He’s coughing up mistletoe, Derek.  I know you never left his side, which means the Darach is more powerful than we know.  But you dying isn’t going to help us get her.”

“I can’t just let him die!” 

Lydia stepped forward and placed a tentative hand on Derek’s shoulder.  “Be careful," she warned.

Derek’s black inked veins pulsed, stretching further up his arm as Derek tried desperately to aid Stiles.  After a tense moment, he roared, rearing his head back at the loss of power.  

Derek slumped over, hand still holding Stiles’s.  Everyone in the room was silent, afraid.  “He’s alive,” Lydia whispered, speaking of Derek whom she still had a hand on.  

Scott let out a sob of relief.  “So is Stiles.”

X

It’s a few hours later when Stiles finally wakes up.  Stiles stretches, his side smarting, but his skin healed.  Beside him, Derek sits up, hands hovering.  Stiles turns to him.  Despite the dark and gloom coming in from the window of Derek’s apartment, all he can feel is a flush of warmth.  

“I was afraid you weren’t going to make it,” Derek whispered, his voice cracking.  The hand hovering over Stiles’s side comes up and rests on his cheek.  Stiles leaned into the hand instinctively.  

“What happened?” Stiles asked, his voice raw.  He wanted to be closer, could feel a pull to have himself in Derek’s arm, content as they were in near sleep, not this fear of being too close.  But it had been Stiles who put up the barrier between them.  Stiles cleared his throat.  “I saw Scott and…”

“I killed Peter,” Derek said, not breaking eye contact with Stiles.  “He’s dead for good this time.  Kali’s dead, too.  The twins and Deucalion fled in the chaos.  Sasha helped heal you.  She seems to have similar expertize as Deaton.  Your aunt’s fine.”  Derek blinked back tears, eyes softer than Stiles had ever seen before.  “Another doctor was found dead.  And a deputy, yesterday.  Lydia found her.”

Stiles heart blipped.  “Who?”

“Tara Graham.  Your father said she used to help you with math.”

Stiles nodded, feeling Derek’s hand still on his cheek.  He tried not to think of her dead, strangled and throat slashed and bludgeoned like the rest of this.  His imagination was too vivid.  

“Lydia thinks philosopher can mean teacher.  Scott called earlier to say your teacher Mr. Westover went missing as well.  They suspect he’s…”  Derek trailed off

They were silent for a while, just breathing in each other.  Wind picked up outside.  “Where is everybody right now?” Stiles finally asked.

Derek dropped his hand and Stiles immediately missed it.  “There’s a recital or something at your school tonight to honor the victims.  Everybody is there to scope out the Darach and protect any potential next –”

They froze, Lydia’s scream tearing through the town to reach their ears.  Stiles scrambled out of the bed, paying little attention to how mostly undressed he was, or that he was in Derek’s bed.  Derek began to ask what that was, and Stiles told him.  It was Lydia.  She had sent Jackson after them, she had _known_.  She was something.

Thunder crashed outside, and Stiles swore internally.  For all they’ve been through, the storm had only just arrived. 

“Stiles!” Derek snapped, his hand on Stiles’s bicep.  “Stop.  Just,” he breathed, “slow down.  You almost _died_.  The entire pack is at the school right now, including Sasha.  Lydia was with them.  I’ve no doubt they’ve heard her and I’ve no doubt they’ll take care of her.”

“But-,”

“Please.”

The touch on his arm felt like burning, but so good.  Stiles wanted to melt into it.  He wanted to fall back on that bed and curl up to Derek and just smell him, them together, and forget everything that was going on.  But… Lydia.  “Derek,” Stiles began, but Derek’s eyes flashed blue and Stiles gasped.  “You’re a beta.”

“We may be without an alpha right now, but our pack is strong.  We’ve five other betas and Sasha is still fighting on our side, for now.  They’ll protect her.”

Stiles heard him, but couldn’t move past the electric blue glow of Derek’s irises.  “ _How_ are you a beta?” he asked in petrified wonder.

Derek swallowed.  “I gave it up to save you.”

Stiles could still feel it, the thread linking them together, stronger now, more a coil of metal than a rope he could slash.  He surged forward in a brief leap of insanity.  Or clarity.  One or the other.  And for a moment all he could think of was the taste of Derek’s lips. 

 

 

 


	18. The Guardians

For a few brief moments everything was Derek.  The rough pads of Derek’s fingertips digging into his side and the curve of his neck.  The taste of that indescribable scent full of spices and sugars and the heady scent of arousal.  The rain was drowned out by the sound of Derek’s heartbeat thrumming in his ear, little gasps of air as their lips slid apart and back together again. But it couldn’t last.

With regret, Stiles pulled back, placing his hands on Derek’s chest.  They were both breathing hard, the toned muscles of Derek’s pectorals moving up and down beneath his hands.  Derek leaned back in, nosing against Stiles’s cheek, nipping at his ear.  Stiles tilted his head back and Derek buried his head in the crook of Stiles’s neck and shoulder.  They breathed in deeply.

“We can’t do this,” Stiles said, his body not wanting to stop, hands clenching Derek’s shirt, pressing himself closer.  “We – not now.  Just,” Stiles swallowed hard, Derek’s scent overloading his cognitive function for a moment.  “Just not yet.”

Stiles stepped away, both their hands lingering, neither wanting to let go, but Lydia’s scream was still humming in the distance as if the air didn’t want to let it go.  “I-” Stiles began, his voice sticking in his throat as he looked to Derek.  He shook his head and searched for a shirt.  He vaguely remembered being torn to shreds by Peter.  Derek handed him a deep red Henley, a size or two too large.  The corner of Stiles’s mouth twitched up.  “Sharing clothes already?” he joked, pulling the shirt over his head.  Stiles sniffed out his shoes by the entrance of the apartment and frowned.  “I need pants first.”  A pair of jeans hits Stiles in the head.  They were his own, but freshly washed.  He looked to Derek who shrugged.

“They were covered in blood,” Derek said, looking away with a clenched jaw.  And yeah, Stiles knew what the smell of Derek’s blood made him feel.  He got it.

“Thanks.”  Stiles pulled on the jeans and slipped on his shoes, not bothering with socks.  “Come on, let’s go.”

X

By the time they got to the high school the place was swarming with cops, mostly evacuated but a lot of people were there, statements being taken.  A teacher had died when the piano chord snapped during the concert.  Stiles sniffed out Lydia quickly, racing to her in a blind panic.  She was sitting in the back of an ambulance, Jackson holding her hand and a trauma blanket over her shoulders.  Stiles gave Jackson a quick glance before folding Lydia into his arms, burring his nose into her neck before pulling back, examining the fast forming bruise around her neck. 

Stiles gently stroked his thumb over the mark.  “I should have been there.”

“Stiles, I’m fine,” she whispered, throat raw from screaming, sore from strangulation.  “Really.  There’s nothing you could have done.  Last I saw you, you were in no condition to help anyway.”

Stiles frowned and stepped back, letting Jackson take her hand again.  “What happened?”

Jackson nosed at Lydia’s cheek for a moment before answering for her.  “She got a text from my phone.  Miss Blake had taken it in class that day so,” he shook his head.  “We all heard her scream.  We raced in to find her.”

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Lydia choked out.

“What, why?” he asked, his heart racing. 

“Your dad,” she sobbed.  “She took your dad.”

X

Derek stayed by the car and followed Stiles with his eyes and ears.  Lydia was someone Derek had considered under his care, but at the same time everything felt… different now.  His connection with the pack was muddled.  The pack he built from the ground up wasn’t his anymore.  It wasn’t something he could just feel.  It was there, they were still pack, but it was disorienting.  Scott was the only beta he had felt as an equal beta before. 

Lost in his thoughts, he tuned out of Stiles’s conversation and was startled when a hand was placed on his arm. 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” A woman said with a timid smile when he jerked away.  “Just, you didn’t seem to hear me.”  She had a kind smile and wavy dark hair.  “But, you’re Isaac Lahey’s guardian, right?”

Derek tensed immediately.  “What happened.  Is he okay?”

The woman put her hands out in a placating gesture.  “Yes!  Yes, sorry.  Wrong type of circumstances to start like that,” she half laughed.  “I’m one of his teachers.  And I just wanted to be sure.”

Derek opened his mouth to ask what for when in one swift motion the woman lifted her hand and quickly blew powdered wolfsbane into his face.  As he fell, he heard the woman say “I’ve gotten so much better at hiding scents now that I have my philosophers,” in a tone much darker than she’d spoken before and Derek could only think _Stiles._

X

Scott headed over to Lydia, Stiles, and Jackson, having just got off the phone with his mom.  She was going to be late since they were evacuating the hospital.  The storm that had been brewing further north and sending just wind and rain their way was starting to shake foundations.  He could feel it in the atmosphere.  The ozone was tickling his nose. 

Stiles’s heartbeat was frantic and his eyes were flickering when he reached them.  Jackson had a hand around Stiles’s wrist to keep him from running off.  Scott could only assume they told him about the Sheriff.  “Hey,” he said, placing a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.  “We’ll find him.  I promise.”

“We don’t even know where to start looking,” he sobbed, tears not breaking but his throat clogged with emotion.  He was on the verge of a panic attack and the only thing keeping him grounded was the tether of pack.  Isaac and Erica were making their way closer and Stiles was desperately trying to breathe their scents in.  “I can’t even pick up his scent.”

He was right.  Scott and the others had searched the area, trying to find one hint to track the Sheriff down with, but nothing came up.  But they weren’t totally lost.  Isaac put a hand on Stiles’s other shoulder when he reached them and Erica snaked her arms around his waist, resting her head on the knob of his spine.  Lydia’s hand was resting on Stile’s thigh.  It helped calm him.  Scott could feel the tension in Stiles’s body fade and his breathing even out.      

It wasn’t long before Boyd and Danny made their way over.  “We may not be totally lost,” Boyd said, nodding to Danny.  The human was still shell shocked from the death that had happened during the concert, but he gulped and squared his shoulders.  “I’ve been looking over those maps again.  I’ll need Lydia’s help triangulating, but I have a feeling about the epicenter of the current cross marks.”

Lydia cleared her throat and drew her hand back.  “Yeah,” she said softly.  “Let’s do that.”

“Come on,” Scott urged gently, turning Stiles towards him.  “Let’s get you home.  You’re still recovering.”

Stiles nodded and glanced over to the Camaro, his eyes narrowing.  “Scott… where’s Derek?”

X

Stiles slumped into the front door using the spare key under the mat.  They hadn’t been able to find or contact Derek but there was nothing more Stiles could do to help.  He felt like he was going to collapse at any moment and melt into the floor but he wanted to rage.  He wanted to cry and punch something and yell until Derek and his father were returned to him.  He wanted to help.  But even after all this time, he was slow to heal. 

He froze when he heard his aunt moving in the living room.  She hurried to her feet and rushed to the front hall, pausing when she took in the sight of Stiles.  After a few moments hesitation, she rushed over and pulled him into her arms.  “I can’t believe you’re not dead,” she whispered vehemently into the crook of his neck.  Stiles carefully held her back. 

Clare pulled away, looking as wild eyed as she had at the loft when there were claws to her throat.  “ _Werewolves_.  God.  I saw werewolves.  Fighting.  And I almost died.  And you almost died.”  Her breath hitched and she stepped back to fan herself a little.  “It’s been a few days and I’m still freaking out.  Your dad filled me in, but oh god.”  Clare headed back into the living room and Stiles ambled behind.  “Here, come here,” she motioned for him to sit on the couch.  There were musty boxes littering the living room, most marked _Claudia_.  “I’ve been going through your mom’s things.  After learning, it was like so many things clicked into place.  Just, hold on.”

Stiles watched as Clare dug through one of the boxes, pulling out a large tome, leather bound and hand written.  The cover was inked with a symbol that reminded Stiles of a snowflake.  It was quite simple, and really old. 

“It was our fathers,” Clare explained.  “Claudia was always much closer to him and she always said you had his spirit.  I never really understood, but I think I do now.”

Stiles’s brow furrowed in confusion, taking the book from her hands and tracing the symbol on front. She sat down next to him and took a deep breath.

“It’s a _gromoviti znaci_.  Thunder marks of the Slavic thunder god Perun.  We’re Polish, but very closely linked to Slavic culture and you find this symbol on family heirlooms going back generations.  And this book, I remember Dad and Claudia reading it all the time.  I never got it, because I didn’t quite have the spark, but that’s what she meant when she said you were like our father.  You would have had the spark that runs in our family had you not traded it to become a werewolf.”

Stiles turned the pages of the old book.  There were many illuminations of Polish and Slavic lore, some even of Celtic origins.

“Why didn’t she ever tell me?” he wondered.

Clare shrugged next to him.  “Why didn’t she ever tell _me_?” she asked softly in return.  It wasn’t damning, just one of those things.  The entire book was in Polish and Stiles only knew one or two words, but it made him curious despite the sleep nagging at his brain.

Had Scott never been bitten, would he still find his way into this life? 

“I’m going to keep going through her things.  It..,” Clare paused, frowning, “it’s giving me a chance to really say goodbye.”

“Thank you,” he said, getting up with the book cradled in his arms.  “I’m going to bed for now.”

She smiled sweetly, a new look on her usually stern face.  “Night, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t dare tell her about his dad being missing.  She was going through enough right now as it is.

X

Derek woke up tied to a pole, wrists stinging from the wolfsbane infused ropes, a circle of mountain ash around him.  Melissa McCall and John Stilinski were awake, over a yard away.  Too far for either of them to kick the ash around him and break the barrier. 

“Welcome to the party,” John joked mirthlessly. 

Everything looked the vaguest bit familiar and suddenly Derek knew where he was, a phantom smell of her blood settling in the back of his throat. 

 


	19. The Roots

Stiles wakes up and goes to school, because really, what else is he supposed to do. Scott was in the parking lot, one leg still slung over his motorbike, frozen in place and eyes wide open. It took a moment longer for Stiles to zone in on what spooked his friend.

“…Is that?” he asked, coming up to Scott’s side.

His friend nodded slowly, jaw clenched and nose flaring. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard.

Stiles cocked his head to catch the conversation and cringed. “He’s looking to speak to us.” He looked over Scott and frowned. “Where’s the others?”

He was hoping to distract him, but Scott never looked away from the school as he answered. “Isaac and Cora are at the apartment prepping for the eclipse. Danny texted me a few minutes ago. Lydia and Jackson fell asleep at his so they’ll be missing first period because Lydia needs time to do her hair, or something. Um… Erica and Boyd are making out behind the bleachers.”

“Yep, I can hear that too.”

Scott nodded slowly again.

“The eclipse?” Stiles prompted, because he didn’t know why Cora and Isaac needed to prep for that. It was enough to snap Scott’s attention away from the school.

“Oh, right! Cora joined us last night when we called her about Derek. There’s an eclipse coming in a few days. We apparently um… lose all our power.”

Stiles paled, his heart skipping a beat. There was a surge of almost hope and a thrill of dread. A part of Stiles missed being human and god what he would give to feel _normal_ again, but this was not the time for it. Not with the 3 remaining alphas still prowling, not with his dad missing, not with so much else going on. But then something clicked in the back of his mind. “Will mountain ash affect us?”

Scott shrugged. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Better than ever. Literally. This is the first time I’ve been healthy without a lick of Peter still kicking. I feel great,” Stiles said with a frown. “Come on,” Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder. “Let’s ditch before your dad finds us. Tell Lydia et all to come to the apartment.” After a moment heading back to his jeep Stiles called out “YOU TOO, VERNON!”

Scott laughed as Erica cursed them both.

X

Derek thunked his head back on the post he was tied to. The wolfsbane in the ropes was really starting to make him feel queasy. They had slept fitfully through the night. Derek hardly at all. He was surprised that woman hadn’t come back for them already. She had her sacrifices ready. There was no reason to not kill them already. Still, it gave them a sense of hope that they have time, they might be found. Derek had tried howling, but a storm was raging all night and it stole away his cry on the wind. Now his voice was sore, just the little bit of poisoning slowing his healing enough that he had a stupid sore throat.

“Be strategic about it,” John had said. “We always teach kids that if they get lost in the woods to sit down and wait, so that when someone comes calling they have the voice to call back.”

Derek had rolled his eyes, but conceded nonetheless.

John woke with a groan and a kink in his neck. “Think my son’s okay?” were his first words.

Derek looked over with a lackluster half smile. “I’m sure he’s worried himself sick. But,” Derek sighed, “he was almost back to full strength last I saw him. Almost like Peter never happened.”

“Peter will always have happened,” John replied with a grimace. Nothing could change the changes that man forced on all their lives. “But I’m glad to hear he’s healed from it.”

Melissa then woke with a start, Scott’s name on her lips. She took a moment to recollect herself, remember where she was, what was real and what was nightmare, how not enough of it was a dream. “Do we know what she wants?” She eventually asked. “You know, besides us dead,” she joked weakly with a hollow laugh.

“Revenge,” John supplied.

“Revenge?” Melissa asked. “What did we ever do to her?”

John shook his head. “Not on us. On those alphas.”

X

The gang was in the living room of Derek and Isaac’s apartment, with the exception of Derek. They were a pack, but they were leaderless. Derek had been their alpha, but now he gave up that status and he was missing and the tension in the air felt like gauze and bitters on their tongues. Lydia and Danny had been able to narrow down the potential base points to three locations on the map via the currents Danny was tracking, but no one could agree how to move forward.

Cora had suggested splitting up. They had seven wolves, that’s groups of two to each location while one stays back with Lydia and Danny. Lydia said splitting up was inviting trouble. There was no way of knowing if any of this was a trap. Isaac pointed out that they didn’t know how much time they had left and it would be a waste to send everybody to one place only to find it empty. Scott wanted to know why he couldn’t invite Braeden over. Cora seethed that she was a fly by the night mercenary whose alliance was to who paid her and they didn’t know who that was. Scott insisted they could trust her. Erica snapped that they were wasting more time arguing this way. Danny stood out of the way, not really wanting to get into the thick of it. Boyd had some helpful suggestions that no one really heard over the yelling between Lydia and Cora. Stiles mostly paced and interjected snide comments and bickering with Jackson whenever he opened his mouth.

Scott was the one to step up, calm them down, and diplomatically figure out where everyone’s preferences lie and if there were any alternative solutions.

Leadership looked good on him.

Stiles, however, got distracted by a slip of paper close to falling out of Lydia’s notebook. It was a piece of computer paper with a tree sketched on it. The other side showed a math quiz with perfect marks. Stiles flipped it again and stared at the tree.

“Lydia,” he said, cutting through the now civilized discussion.

X

“Her name was Julia. Julia something or other. I covered a case from years back when I was still a deputy, she survived a gruesome mauling. Knowing what I know now, it was a werewolf. I saw her real face when she took me. Jennifer Blake is just a mask.”

“Bravo for figuring all that out,” a new voice said from the top of the root cellar stairs. Derek frowned. He wasn’t able to smell her. “Unfortunately, knowing isn’t going to help you here.” Derek growled as she neared, but Jennifer, Julia, whatever her name was, just gave him an unamused look. “Now, Derek, is that any way to treat your host? I was just coming to thank you, after all.”

“For what?” he spat.

She smiled and it seemed so genuine you could hardly believe she had killed twelve people in the last month. All for the name of power.

“So many things.” Julia fully descended into the cellar and looked over at John and Melissa. “You know why I chose you two? There are so many parents in this town, but you two, gosh, your kids would do anything to protect you, and with this kind of trouble going on you would willingly give yourselves to me to save them, wouldn’t you.” It wasn’t really a question. Melissa set her jaw, refusing to respond with anything but a tested glare. John was literally biting his tongue to hold back the remarks flying through his head. “Makes the bond of the guardian so much sweeter.” She turned back to Derek, walking over ‘til she was just on the edge of the mountain ash circle. “But you, Derek. I never planned to sacrifice you. I was going to offer my help against the alpha pack. But you becoming legal guardian to poor angel faced Isaac. I couldn’t really pass you up. You were a guardian of a pack and you already sacrificed that. You’re perfect.” Blake reached out, as if to touch his cheek. Derek snapped his teeth, but was unable to reach her, she just smiled. “I do want to thank you though.” She squatted to be eye level with the reminted beta. “For those blue eyes. It was her blood that gave the nemeton just enough power to keep me alive when Kali tried to kill me.”

She stood quickly and headed back to the stairs. “I suppose I should thank you for killing her too, but I had kind of wanted the special pleasure of taking Kali’s life. Oh well. Deucalion will be enough trouble. And that’s why I need your strength.”

She took a knife out of a bucket by the stairs. Water sloshed and dripped from the blade and Derek could make out the hint of wolfsbane and mistletoe on the blade. Soaked in poison, just for him.

X

The trees were all exactly the same, spread out over the table. “Stiles,” Cora said. “Come over here.” He walked around to the other side and saw what she saw.

“It’s not the branches.”

Cora looked at him, frantically remembering things from a childhood she suppressed. “There’s a root cellar, someone in the preserve.”

Danny pulled up the map to the top of the pile and pointed to one of the circles. “This one.”

“Then let’s go,” Stiles said, already memorizing the location and heading to the door.

“And what’s the plan?” Erica called out, tailing behind.

“Save them. Don’t die. Maybe even get rid of our English teacher.”

The whole pack raced down the stairs. “Rough idea, but I think it works,” Scott said, determination on his features.

 


	20. The Last Blood

The Darach slinked over like the viper she was, a coy smile just this side of innocent gracing her features.  The knife soaked in poison doing everything to magnify the crazed glint to her eye.  “This is going to hurt,” she said, toeing the line of mountain ash.  “As my final sacrifices, it’s going to be slow.”  Jennifer smirked at Derek. “I hope you can forgive me for this, Derek.  I really do.”  In a move too fast for a human, Jennifer darted close to Derek and plunged the dagger into his chest, dragging the blade downwards.  Instinctually, he tried to howl.  Pain was too strong to do anything else.  But her magic had coated his throat long before he woke up bound and trapped.  The only sound out of him was a gargle of black bile.  “You’re going to bleed, Derek Hale, just like the girl you unknowingly sacrificed all those years ago.”  Her smile grew and she stood back, the blade still trapped in his stomach.  “You’re going to bleed for three days.”  She turned to the others.  “All of you are.”

The wound was too close to his heart.  He wasn’t sure he could survive three days.   But Jennifer was calculated in her madness.  Maybe he would.

Jennifer took out another blade, a normal one, no poison needed to keep the humans bleeding.  As she marched over to John, a howl was heard.  Then another.  A whole chorus of angry roars thundered near and the Darach scrambled for her mountain ash and mistletoe before the cellar door burst open. 

The poison was already coursing through his veins, though, making it hard to concentrate on the cries of battle.  He kept his eyes on John, who had been so close to being cut open.  Then there was Stiles, slicing open his father’s bonds and holding him tightly.  Derek dully noted Scott doing the same with his mother as Cora and Isaac, was that Jackson?, fighting the Darach. 

Then Stiles, before him, yelling his names, eyes wild, unable to get closer than a few feet, the barrier repelling him like a blinding shield.  Melissa scrambled over on her hands and knees and swiped away the mountain ash and Stiles fell forward.  His hands were everywhere, the scent of Stiles too rich, too bitter with salt tears and fear.  A hand on his shoulder, steadying him, then a tug that nearly took his insides with it.  Stiles pulled out the blade and Derek willed himself to roar in pain again but couldn’t, his throat- his throat... Stiles sliced the bonds from his wrists and around his torso.  In the distance he could see Erica and Boyd herding Melissa and John out of the cellar. 

With a grunt, he was in the air.  No, in Stiles’s arms. 

X

Stiles stood in the vet’s office, waiting for the others.   Derek was being treated by Deaton and Stiles watched on from a distance, his heart still hammering.  His father was safe.  Melissa was safe.  Derek was going to be fine.  He just needed to wait for his pack.  They would win.  They had to.  Lydia was in the waiting room, having driven the getaway vehicle for him, but Danny was still risking his life waiting for the rest of the pack.

The Sheriff came up and put a hand on his shoulder.  “So what was that back there?  Between you and him,” he asked, nodding towards Derek. 

Stiles shrugged and wiped a tired hand over his face. “I don’t know.  It’s… It’s complicated.”

“I do remember the conversation we had the day you came back from Anaheim.  Speaking of which, I should probably call your Aunt.  And the station.”

“You should do that,” Stiles conceded, eyes still on Derek as Deaton poured something down his throat. 

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad said with a squeeze of his shoulder.  “Whatever’s going on between you and Derek, it’s okay.”

Stiles, for the first time, looked away from Derek.  He didn’t know what to say, his mouth heavy.  “We kissed, the day you were taken, before it happened, that is.  We kissed.”

The Sheriff pressed his lips to his son’s forehead.  “As far as I’m concerned, you and that boy are the same emotional age.  And the way you look at him now… I understand it.  You really like him.  And I’m fairly certain he really likes you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles questioned, looking back to Derek on the vet’s operating table. 

“Yeah.”

John stepped away to pull out his phone.  Not two minutes later there was the screech of tires outside and a pile of werewolves pushed their way into the clinic.  Scott was bleeding badly, supported by Isaac and Erica, and it looked like Jackson’s cheekbone had been broken, sunken in.  He was in such a rage of pain, it looked like.  Boyd huffed in behind them, next to Danny. 

“She got away,” Boyd growled. 

X

It was hours later when Derek woke up.  Stiles sat by his side once Deaton was done treating him and waited.  The pack had left.  Jackson was healing up with Lydia playing nurse at her house.  Scott had his mom, but Stiles had gotten a text that Braeden was watching over him for now.  His dad had gone to the station to give his statement.  The pack all left knowing what was the official word to give, who was there, who wasn’t.  Melissa had gone with him.  They didn’t mention Derek or any of the kids.  It was easier that way.  Derek, according to John, missed his last few days at the academy because of the flu.  His son told him.  They’re rather close.

John now understood how his son could have lied to him so often before he got bit.  He was keeping secrets that needed to be kept.  The FBI getting involved only made things worse.  They had already been showing up due to the serial murders.  Now Agent McCall was going about, checking into things.  If there was one person who didn’t need to learn about the supernatural, it was Scott’s father.

When Derek woke up, he was in fine health.  That’s werewolf powers for you.  Stiles smiled grimly down at him. 

“Hey.”

Derek groaned and sat up.  The metal table wasn’t exactly comfortable and his stomach felt like it was perpetually being stung by bees.   “Hey.”

Stiles lifted his hand, hesitated, but ultimately reached over.  He placed his palm against Derek’s cheek and swiped this thumb under those brilliant hazel-blue eyes. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Stiles said. 

Stiles was surprised when Derek brought him back to the nemeton.  “She won’t be back for a while,” he said.  “Not after what just happened.”

“You don’t know that,” Stiles urged, not liking to be there. 

Derek sat down, just before the giant tree stump.  “When I was in high school,” he started, then took a deep breath.  Stiles sat down next to him, unsure where this was going.  “When I was in high school I dated this girl.  Paige.  She was the first person I ever really… I was stupid.  She got bit by an alpha.  Ennis, actually.”

Stiles slipped his fingers into Derek’s.  They rested on the dry earth, warm, a comfort. 

“Her body rejected the bite,” Derek said.  “And I brought her here, safe from the other wolves, and she was dying.  And she was in so much pain.”

Stiles remembered.  God, did he remember how much it hurt, how much he just wanted it to end, any way he could. 

“And I killed her.”

“Derek…”

“She died here, in my arms.  She’s the reason my eyes are blue.  I killed my first love.”  Derek looked over, catching Stiles’s eye. 

Stiles leaned forward and kissed Derek’s cheek.  Then up further, to kiss his temple.  Left, to kiss his eyelid, further to kiss his other.  “You’ve had too much happen to you, Derek.”  Stiles kissed his other cheek.  His hand had found a spot at the nape of his neck and he rested his fingers against his pulse.  “Too much bad and not enough good.”

Derek leaned forward and rested his forehead against Stiles’s.  “After,” he began, “after the fire I spent a lot of time just feeling empty, guilty.  I already felt guilty, that’s how she was able to manipulate me so easily.  Kate, I mean.”

“I know.”  Stiles kissed the corner of Derek’s mouth, then pulled back to kiss his forehead.

Derek squeezed the fingers interwoven with his.  “After the emptiness I found some solace searching for answers.  I knew what happened with the fire.  But I wanted to know if there was some way I could have at least saved Paige.”

Derek pulled away and stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants.  He was nearing tears in his eyes.  “There wasn’t.  But I did, in the end, find a way to save you.”

He looked down to Stiles, and offered his hand. Stiles took it and was hefted to his feet.  He wrapped his arms around Derek’s torso and buried his nose into Derek’s neck.  He smelled so richly of spice and warmth.  Not quite like anything in his scent books.  He had spent so much time trying to name what Derek smelled like. 

“What do I smell like to you?” he whispered into Derek’s throat.

Derek rubbed his cheek against the top of Stiles’s head.  “Like someone I can trust.”

“Yeah.”  He breathed in deeply.  “That’s it exactly.”

X

Lydia squealed when she saw the caller ID.  It had been far too long.  Jackson could bitch as much as he wanted to about his poor cheekbone.  Lydia was going to take this call.

“Allison!  How is France?  I haven’t heard from you in weeks!”

Allison laughed on the other line.  “ _La France est incroyable. Je l'aime ici. Mais tu me manques_.”

“Aw, I miss you too,” Lydia said, pouring herself some lemonade and sitting at the kitchen counter.  “Now please tell me all about the clothes your buying because I need something very non-huntery to think about.”

“ _Actually, Lydia, I needed to talk to you about something.  I’m thinking about coming back_.”

Lydia sat up straighter, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear.  “What, why?  What’s changed?”

“ _We just got news from Folsom.  Gerard’s dead._ ”

 


	21. The Eclipse

Stiles fell back onto his bed.  The late morning light was peeking through the window and his breakfast burrito was sitting on a plate on his chest.  He could hear Aunt Clara in the attic, going through more of his mom’s old things.  His dad was sleeping in.  The station had forced him to take a break, which was a relief for Stiles.  If he tuned out everything else he could hear his dad’s heartbeat.  Stiles tapped the rhythm against his thigh, waiting for the burrito to cool down enough to eat.  Sure, his mouth would heal in two seconds but he’d rather not burn it in the first place.

It was odd, everything they’d past been through.  It was odder still to know that they weren’t out of the clear yet.  The FBI was swarming around.  Scott was dealing with his dad.  There were still three alphas running about and a psychotic witch lady who still needed her final sacrifices.  Lydia said they had mucked up how strongly her last sacrifice could be (three days of bleeding onto an eclipse is apparently like a magic buffet) but she could still kill some random parents at any time and finish her knot.

Stiles sighed, shaking his head clear of the mess that was going on around him, and shoved the breakfast burrito into his mouth, ignoring the slight burn on his tongue.  Eh.  Worth it. 

He’d just made his way back into the kitchen for a second one, or maybe a hot pocket… pizza rolls… yeah pizza rolls sounded good, when there was a knock on the door.  Stiles stilled, quirking his head to the side to hear who was outside.  Lydia?

He opened the door.  The red head was standing there, perfectly poised but with an air of stress.  It could be from everything in the past few weeks, but it felt more skeptic than angry.  Stiles wasn’t sure how he could read that, but it was there. 

“What is it?” he asked

Lydia pushed her way inside.  “Gerard Argent is dead.”

Stiles stumbled over himself at her words.  “What?  Really?  How…”

She sat primly on the couch, replying to a text message.  “The cancer took him about a week ago.  Nothing supernatural involved.  He’s been cremated.  So that’s one thing down and out.  He’s very much so dead and not coming back.”

“But,” Stiles said, sitting across from her.  “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

X

Stiles went back to sleep that night, having been on the phone with Scott ever since he finished talking with Allison.  They didn’t know what to do with the news.  Only the three (well, more if you counted the Argent’s) that knew about Kate.  Stiles thought, reluctantly, that they should keep it that way.  The ‘she-wolf’ these Mexican hunters were after was still prowling the boarder of the states.  Stiles wondered how she got so far south.  Maybe she clawed her way out of her grave and ran on instinct and whatever humanity she ever had woke up when she was in Central America.  He didn’t really care.  What he cared about was that she was far away.  Much too far away to worry about right now. 

Because it was new day and the sun was shining, and it wasn’t going to be for about 15 minutes this afternoon.  And that was where their heads needed to be right now.  He called up Scott. 

“I think I have a plan.”

X

Isaac was running.  His shoulder wasn’t healing because of that stupid English teacher.  Erica was trailing just behind with Sasha’s weapons.  The strange girl and Boyd were down.  The twins had tagged teamed them a while back.  Isaac didn’t think they were dead, but god he hoped not.  Jackson was back at Lydia’s standing guard for her and Danny.  They weren’t too happy about that, but Jackson had the least training and neither Lydia nor Danny should be in the battle. 

Derek, he was pretty sure, was still fighting off that freaking Druid.  Cora with him.  But that didn’t matter.  Isaac had to get to the meeting point.

X

“You’re making a big mistake, Derek,” Julia, Jennifer, whatever the fuck her name is yelled after knocking out Cora.  She was strong.  Too strong. 

“You tried to kill me,” Derek snapped.  He held onto his chest where she had imbedded some glass.  His back-up loft was ruined, that was for sure.  _Where the hell was Scott?_   Derek howled, in anger and location signaling, and went after the Darach. 

X

“Oh, Scott, Scott, Scott.  You should have just joined me when I asked you to.”  Deucalion grinned at him over his walking stick.  Scott was on the ground, the cut on his cheek already healing over.  “Because the Darach now has it out for your little rag tag group as well.  And I’m more than willing to let her take your group out, one by one,” he said, mimicking their last meeting.  “And now that you’re without an alpha, leaving you with an even greater ability to reach your true potential.”

Scott wiped blood from his mouth.  “I’m not your lap dog, Deucalion.”  He stood, focusing his energy into healing his broken leg.  He needed to get to Derek.   Scott looked around.  He wasn’t too far away.  He could hear Derek’s howl.  He opened his mouth to respond, near instinct, but Deucalion slammed his throat.  He groaned, knocked back to the floor.  He heard Stiles’s howl.  Close enough to signal Derek.  He hoped he would be able to make it, because it didn’t look like Scott was getting away any time soon.

X

Stiles could hear Deucalion, all hyped up on his own sense of self importance.  He called up Isaac and redirected him to Derek, detailing the adjustment in the plan.  “No, Scott’s caught up.  Braeden still got your back?”

“ _She got knocked out.  Erica’s with me._ ”

“Okay.  Okay.  Plan C.  Head to that crappy loft.  Save Derek.  I’ll have Jackson scramble for Braeden and Boyd.”

“ _Got it_.”

Stiles dialed up Lydia, knowing he was going to get some heat for this.

“ _Oh, so you need me_ now _, do you?_ ” she snapped with some fake cheer.

“I need you to take some of the balm we made and heal up Boyd.  Send Jackson out to get them.  Wait until the eclipse to have them go to the loft.  It should be clear by then.  Heal up Cora.  Have Danny… I don’t know.  Be Danny.”

“ _Helpful.  He’s tracking all of you on GPS.  He’ll drive the car for Jackson.  Last time I went out I ruined my dress.  But Stiles…_ ”

“Yeah?”

” _I can feel the death from here.  I don’t think it’s any of us, but I don’t know how to tell that_.”

Scott was doing his best to fight off the man who was currently declaring himself the ‘demon wolf’.  God, what a pretentious douchebag. 

“Everything’s going to be fine, Lyds.  Eclipse in five.  See you on the other side.”  He hung up quick enough.  His hearing was better than the other wolfs, so he knew Deucalion couldn’t hear him.  Still. 

It was time to get closer. 

X

Scott didn’t have much time.  Deucalion was stronger and he had leverage, cornering Scott and taking him one on one.  But Deucalion didn’t know Scott was just stalling. 

X

Isaac was pissed that he had to go back and face the Darach but Erica had his back.  They skirted into the loft just as Derek slammed into the wall next to him.  “Derek!” he yelled, going after him, hefting him up.  Derek groaned in pain, blood everywhere.

“You’re going to miss your window,” Erica said, pointing a gun at Jennifer.  She held an electric baton to her side.  She looked uncomfortable holding them, but the threat still stood.  Isaac had seen Sasha use the baton against the twins.  It was strong enough to knock anybody else.   

“Eclipse is happening in,” she looks at her watch, “Three minutes.  Then you’ll have a, what, fifteen minute time frame.”  She jerked her gun towards the broken window behind Jennifer.  “You better get going.”

X

“I know you’re there, Stiles.” 

Stiles froze, mid step towards Deucalion.  “Love how blind you are,” Stiles spit out.  He could feel the twins encroaching on either side of him.  They were all trapped until Derek got here.  Or rather, until the Darach got here.

“Boys, boys, boys.”

 _Just on time_ , Stiles thought. 

“Settle down,” She said, sauntering in as if she weren’t covered in blood.  “I think we all know you’re all pretty hopeless.”

The sky began to darken.  Stiles looked up, squinting.  It wasn’t healthy for his eyes, but it was still cool to watch. 

 _Yep.  Just on time_.

He could feel it.  His humanity.  It felt odd, having something he grew up with feeling like a stranger in his own skin.  Stiles had spent so long fighting off black vile then settling in the with the bite, finally, it felt wrong no longer having that pull to the moon.

However, it was just what they needed.

“It’s okay, Ms. Blake,” Stiles said.  “We’re on your side.”

Stiles could hear the way the twins froze as Derek, Isaac, and Erica surrounded all of them.  They were defenseless.  All of them.  Against an evil druid.  Except, of course, they had a plan.  The best way to eliminate a threat is to get someone else to do it for you.  Stiles spared a thought to figure out what movie that quote came from.  Didn’t matter. 

X

Derek charged Deucalion, punching him square in the jaw.  It felt nice.  The twins were visibly wary, trapped in behind Isaac and Sasha.

“All yours, Blake,” Derek said, standing over Deucalion. 

“Really?” Jennifer said with a smirk, stepping forward. 

“No.” Scott said, lunging at her. 

They were at their weakest, but they needed it for this work.  Derek couldn’t hear because of the damned eclipse, but he knew that Sasha and the betas had been working on the twins all night.  Getting them to switch sides.  Just temporarily.  The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?  It paid off. 

As Scott attacked, the twins joined.  No wolf meant no defense.  Erica and Isaac used Sasha’s weapons and were their best offense, but it still left them with some of Blake’s strong defense.   Derek had the easy job, keep Deucalion down.  He was their real threat in the end.

X

Stiles was waiting.  They were losing.  They were losing because Jennifer was too strong and right now they were all humans, two with some skill in street fighting, against someone with magic.  But what she didn’t know was that this was all a stall.  Everything was a stall.

They didn’t have even fifteen minutes for this eclipse.  Danny had given them twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds.  But they’d already stalled seven minutes.  Five minutes left and counting.  Jennifer knocked Isaac out.  One of the twins took the baton and swung it at Blake, causing her to stumble a bit. 

Four.

Erica shot Jennifer in the shoulder, the stomach, the leg.  Stiles was impressed.  It took her a moment to heal over, by which time Scott had already knocked her to the ground. 

Three.

She pulsed the group away, even knocking Stiles to the ground despite his distance from the fighting.  Blake sent Derek flying.

Two. 

Jennifer began bashing Deucalion’s head in.

One.

Stiles reached into his back pocket, focusing on his last conversation with Deaton.  He only had one shot at this and no chance to practice.  But if there was one thing Stiles knew how to do after being bitten, it was believe.

X

Derek kept his eye on Stiles just as much on Deucalion.  When Stiles reached into his back pocket he turned to Erica and yelled.  She back kicked one twin towards Jennifer and then the other. 

Stiles ran in as close as he dared and then tossed the black powder.  Derek grabbed his middle and pulled him back just as the mountain as formed and fell into a perfect circle around Deucalion and the twins.  And Jennifer Blake.   

Just as the moon finished passing over the sun. 

And they were wolves again.

 _Just in time_.

Deucalion shifted, as the twins held her down.  She was still stronger, but if they were experiencing the same power surge Stiles was, it was enough for right now.  For this quick.  For Deucalion to turn black and furious and slash her throat.

And then the alphas were caught.  Trapped in a circle of mountain ash. 

The twins eyes were flashing a bright blue and Derek frowned.

“How did that happen?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

Stiles followed his eye to the twins.  “Jennifer killed them for a little bit, according to Isaac.  Must have knocked the alpha right out of them.”

Derek laughed in disbelief.  “Holy fuck.”

Stiles looked over to Erica who was still holding her gun out towards the circle and then to Isaac, just waking up on the floor.  Boyd and Cora howled in the distance, safe, Jackson joining them after a beat.  Stiles looked to where Scott was standing, eyes surging red. 

“I can’t believe that worked,” Stiles choked out. 

Derek buried his nose into Stiles’s neck, pulling them closer together.  “It did, though.  It did.  We’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since someone asked: Stiles can use Mountain Ash because during the eclipse he became human and human Stiles has the necessary spark to use magic. He waited until the last possible second to make sure the alphas were trapped when they turned back because it wouldn't keep them if they were still human.
> 
> Secondly, I debated for a long time whether or not I wanted to dismiss the 3b finale with Kate. SPOILERS (for my fic): In the end, I decided to at the very least bring it up, but I'm not going to have Kate show up in person. The whole premise of my fic is to make sure what would have happened regardless of Stiles being bitten still happens. (i.e. Kate's funeral, Geard coming for said funeral, Matt seeing Mr. Lahey and going crazy, weather changes, track meets, the alpha pack since they had been tracking them since the kanima, the darach because she was going after the alpha pack, Scott having true alpha potential etc). So, that being said, Kate is an outside factor that would happen regardless. The only aspect that I wrote about that wasn't derived from cannon is Stiles's Aunt Clare and that aspect of his family as it had never been addressed in the show, as well as the whole connection between him & Derek. I hope to tie up all loose ends, though.


	22. The Returning

Stiles tossed and turned his conversation with Lydia in his head.  Jennifer was dead.  Proven dead.  Scott’s an alpha now, how the fuck that finally transitioned no one’s sure.  The twins have asked to join the pack, but no one trusts them.  They said Deucalion was always the boss, they were always taking orders.  They insisted they could be good under good orders.  But no one trusted them.  Except Scott.  Not enough to let them join the pack.  But enough to let them decide the fate of Deucalion, the man that forced the twins to kill when they were younger, turned them into alphas at barely thirteen, just for his own man power.  Ethan and Aiden were, in a way, victims of Deucalion. 

They got rid of him.  Disposed, the term they used.  Stiles can only imagine.  And Scott sent the twins on their way to find a new pack.  Scott hoped a better pack.  Stiles just hoped they never came back.

And all of this, Stiles could only think of the conversation he had with Lydia the day before the eclipse.

“But,” he had said.  “I hear a but in there.”

“But Kate Argent’s not dead.”

X

Scott leaned back against his headboard, tossing a lacrosse ball up and catching it with a frown.  “So you’re just leaving?”  He looked over to his desk where Brae stood, leaning against the wooden frame.  She shrugged.  It was as good as a yes.  “Why?”

“I’m a hired gun for the supernatural, Scott.  My job was to keep you safe from the alphas.  The alphas are taken care of.  You’re an alpha now.  You don’t need me.”

Scott let the ball fall.  It rolled off his legs and hit the floor with a soft thud.  “But what if I want you?”  He looked away with an embarrassed blush.

“Sorry, Scott.”  Brae pushed herself off the desk and walked over to the bed.  “I already have another job lined up.  And a girl’s gotta eat.” 

Scott turned to her with a half smile.  He figured whatever this was between them wasn’t going to last, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  Brae pushed his hair back and leaned in.  She kissed him on the cheek, sweet and like a goodbye.

“Can’t you at least beat up my dad first?”

She laughed.

X

“But Kate Argent’s not dead.”

Stiles was immediately standing on full alert.  He was sputtering, he knew that.  Not even his rapid fire brain was able to put all of this together. 

“Stiles.  Stiles calm down.”  Lydia placed a hand on his arm which he pushed away, stepping back in the throngs of a panic attack.

“Calm down?  On top of three murderous alphas, a serial killing druid, we now have to also deal with fucking Kate Argent! I just, how.  How?  I just.”

“Stiles!” Lydia snapped, getting her dainty hands around his wrists.  “Stiles stop.  It’s being taken care of.”

“What the actual fuck Lydia!”

“Allison is on the phone with Scott explaining everything, but I wanted to tell you in person so you could tell Derek because I don’t know how to breach this, okay, so just let me explain!” she yelled, screeching in a way that had him stilling in his tracks. 

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, forcing the air out twice as long as he was taking it in.  “Okay.  Explain.  Now.  Before I stop breathing.”

“Allison called me.  She was recently contacted by Folsom about Gerard.  Since she isn’t 18 yet, her father is the new official head of the household since Kate Argent is legally dead.  However, Chris Argent was contacted by a hunter family from Mexico tracking a local complaint of a chupacabra.  They took it to mean werewolf.  Kate Argent never died.  She was dead, for a while, but not fully.  I was doing a lot of reading and sometimes the shape you take shows your true personality or some bullshit.  Like, there’s this thing called a kanima, and let me tell you we are lucky to not have seen one.  But Kate.  When Peter clawed her throat out…”

“If a claw goes deep enough?”

“Yeah.”

“But she died.”

“It was more like a gestation period.”

“What the fuck did she turn into?”

“I’m not sure.  The Mexican’s are calling her the she-wolf.  But Alison gave me a word for word description they gave them.  She’s more of a cat than a wolf.  But she’s still hunting.”

Stiles collapsed onto the couch.  “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“So much for a day off,” Stiles huffed a near hysterical breath.

“Good news,” Lydia prompted, “is that Allison’s coming back.  Well, after she spearheads the hunt for her aunt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

They sat in silence for a moment or two before Lydia shifted, uncomfortable.  “What are you going to tell Derek?”

“Good fucking question.”

He wasn’t sure if he was going to.  Not now.  Not yet.  They had to deal with the eclipse first.

X

But now it was over.  They were in the clear.  For now.  Until she showed up and ruined everything. 

Stiles looked down to his phone, his thumb trailing over Derek’s name, not sure what to text.  If to text.  To call?  To just… stay quiet about this.  Derek was healing.  He didn’t need this. 

X

It felt surreal being back in school.  To most everybody else, none of the last weeks’ events happened.  They knew about his dad being missing and the FBI were still crawling around.  Scott’s dad was still hanging back, trying to connect or whatever shit. 

“Mr. McCall.”  Stiles looked to where Ms. Morrell stood in her doorway, facing Scott who had just entered.  “May I have a moment?”   She turned to Stiles.  “You might as well come, too, Mr. Stilinski.”

With the door shut between them, Morrell motioned them to sit.  “You remember Malia Tate?”

“Yeah,” Scott said. 

“Who’s Malia Tate?” Stiles asked.

Ignoring him, Morrell looked to Scott.  “She checked herself into Eichen House, having trouble coping after so many years as a coyote.”

“A coyote?  What?  What are we talking about?  Who the hell is Malia?”

Scott looked to Stiles and pat his shoulder absently.  “Your dad had us help with a few cold cases over the summer that he thought were supernaturally inclined.”

Stiles huffed, crossing his arms.  “Glad I’m just now hearing about it.” 

“Point being,” Morrell interrupted, “that she’s not quite a wolf, but she does need a pack.  I’ve been working with her all summer, integrating her back into society, helping her catch up on missed education.  She’s very smart, for a teenage coyote, but she has obvious struggles from not being human for so long.”

“So wait, she was trapped as a coyote?”

“Full shift,” Scott nodded.

“Her father,” Morrell persisted, “couldn’t handle her odd behavior which made being back even harder on her.”

“Well, she was a literal animal for like six years,” Scott said.

“Eight,” she corrected, beginning to show frustration of the boys.  “Now, as I was saying.  Malia wants to come back to the real world but she needs help.”  She looks to Scott.  “She needs an alpha.”

Scott squirmed.  He wasn’t yet comfortable about the idea of being the alpha.  Stiles clapped him on the shoulder.  “I couldn’t think of anybody better.”

As they were leaving, Scott was in a bit of a daze, thinking about this Malia character.  He ended up bumping into another girl, knocking her books to the ground.

Stiles watched in amusement as Scott immediately clicked back to reality to help the girl.  Stiles squinted.  There was _something_ about her.  He couldn’t pin what.  Like something he could almost see but wasn’t actually there.

“Kira,” the girl said.  “Kira Yukimura.  My mom used to live here when she was my age, apparently, and they had an opening at the school.  My dad’s the new History teacher.”

“Oh, I think we have class together.”

Stiles tuned them out.

When she headed off to class, it only took one look to know Scott was smitten.  “Oh, god.  This is going to be worse than Allison, isn’t it?”

“What?  No. I-,” 

“Don’t sweat it,” Stiles laughed.  “Just, check her out before you find yourself into another Romeo and Juliet scenario.”

X

Derek showed up at Stiles’s house, using the front door and everything.  “Hey,” he said, toeing the front door frame. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, gesturing him to come in.

“It’s been a while,” Derek said one he was inside.

Stiles shrugged.  “About a week.”  He shut the door behind him.  The two of them shifted their weight, needing to say something.  It wasn’t supposed to be awkward between them, but it was.  Neither of them were exactly good at this.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Stiles gaped and shook his head.  “No.  No.. we just.”  He blew out a long breath.  “We just haven’t had any life threatening situations to need to see each other.”

“Is that all we are?”

Stiles hugged his plaid closer.  “Just people who get thrown together by circumstance?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to be,” Stiles admitted, looking down at his feet.

“What do you want?”

Stiles looked up.  “I want you.”

Derek stepped forward.  He put his hands on either side of Stiles’s face.  “I want you too,” he whispered.  Derek’s lips were on him, moving slowly.  Chapped, yet soft.  Stiles gasped into his mouth and Derek took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue inside.  Stiles let go of his over shit and gripped desperately at Derek’s blue Henley.   

In the haze of attraction, neither of them noticed somebody approaching the front door.  The doorbell rang and the two jumped apart.  Stiles reached up and ruffled the back of his head, ducking away as a blush crept up his neck. 

Stiles pulled open the door, surprised.  “Allison?”

The Argent stood there, dressed in her blacks, a fading bruise under her eye and a few hour old cut on her arm, tied with some make shift bandages. 

“It’s over,” she said.  “It’s done.”

Derek came up, frowning.  “What’s over?”

Allison narrowed her eyes at him then back at Stiles.  “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Derek insisted.

Stiles looked between Derek and Allison, settling on the latter.  “Am I your first stop back in town?”  He noted the motorbike sitting in the driveway. 

She nodded.  “Closest to the town line,” she supplied.  “And I knew you’d have a first aid kit.  I need to get my arm looked at.”

“Tell me about _what_.” Derek said, placing his hand on Stiles’s shoulder. 

Stiles tensed.  “Tell you about Kate.”


	23. The Beginning

“Kate!  _Kate!_   Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this, Stiles?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!  You don’t need this hanging over you.”

“I don’t- I don’t what?  That’s not something for you do decide, Stiles.”

“I care about you, okay!  I care about what happens to you and how you’re feeling and your mental stability and Kate is nothing but poison!  We were fighting a war, Derek.  You didn’t need another enemy!”

“She could have come here, Stiles.  She could have –”

“But she didn’t!  Okay.  Allison was in charge of taking her down, she had a whole team.  We had ours and we took care of our problem.  Kate was not our problem!”

“She’s _my_ problem!”

“EXACTLY!” Stiles screamed.  “She’s the poison!  She’s been poisoning you since you were sixteen!  And she tried to poison Allison. And Allison took care of it!  Okay!”

“YOU STILL SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!” Derek roared.

Stiles was near tears.  “I REALIZE THAT!”

Derek made a loud noise of frustration and punched a side table.

“You are SO PAYING FOR THAT!  And I mean with money!  Okay.”

“YES GOD!” Derek punched the table again for good measure.  He heaved a few deep breaths, calming himself.  Allison had cleared out a while ago and the Sheriff wasn’t scheduled to be back for another hour.  “I have to go.  I’m supposed to be at the academy in an hour.”

“Derek..”

“No.  Stiles, just.  Not right now.”

“But-”

“I said no.”

And then Derek was out the door and gone.  Stiles wiped at his eyes.  “Fuck.”

X

Lydia plopped down across from Stiles at the cafeteria.  “She’s a kitsune.  Or, at least her mom is.  So obvious.  Though, I suppose if you’re seeing something around Kira then she probably is too.  Maybe just manifesting.  Kitsune’s manifest, grow into their power.  Werewolves will do that to, just normally prepubescent.  First full moon that changes a born wolf is around ages 5 through 9.”

“How,” Stiles began, but he already knew the answer.

“I read,” she replied flippantly, tossing her hair over her shoulder.   Allison joined them at the table.  She had decided to finish up her last year here.  “What do you know about kitsune?”

Allison shrugged.  She were a lot of high collared shirts now, Stiles noticed.  There was a scar running down her left collarbone.  “There are a handle of types.  Natural inclinations, related to nature, mostly.  Never met one.  Why?”

“Well Scott’s new love interest seems to be a bit foxy,” Stiles joked.  Allison tensed, just the slightest.  Heartbreak, Stiles noted.  Not so fresh, not enough to cling on to, but still there just a bit.  Stiles was proud of them, honestly, having the kind of romance they did and still being able to be civil and okay with each other seeing other people, even if they had broken up months ago.  If the way Isaac and Allison were eyeing each other were anything to go by, that is.

“She smells like ozone.  Like, just before a thunder storm,” Stiles commented after the silence.

“Thunder, maybe,” Lydia commented.

Stiles shook his head.  “How many of Deaton’s books exactly have you read?”

“All of them,” she huffed indignantly.  “I’m reading further sources now.  Morrell has this contact in Canada who’s a hedge witch and they have a whole different mythos and magic structure than the druids.  It’s fascinating.”

“You know, I missed you,” Allison laughed, pulling Lydia into a side hug.  “Do you know how helpful you would’ve been when dad made me lead this target on-”

“Please no epic hero stories until we’re all thoroughly past the point of jumping at every shadow.  Please.”

Allison laughed, bright a cheery.  “I think that sounds like a plan.”  Stiles hoped her time in Paris was more fruitful and less fearful than if she had stayed in Beacon Hills.  “Oh!  Stiles, Lydia was telling me about your aunt.  Is she still in town?”

Stiles shook his head.  “Clare quit her job, but she had to go back to get rid of her apartment and all that.  She wants to move back to Oregon where she and my mom grew up, trace the family legacy, or whatever.”

“I can understand that,” Allison said, shaking her head.  “The stuff I learned in Paris.”

“Tell her to contact me with any interesting stuff,” Lydia said, popping an overcooked green bean into her mouth and making a face.  “I will not miss cafeteria food,” she groused. 

“Two more years until college, Lyds,” Stiles said, eating is much yummier tater tots.

She laughed.  “I could probably make it out in one.”

Stiles conceded the fact.  “But you’d miss us too much.”

Lydia looked between them, then over to Boyd and Erica at the other end of the table who had just sat down with their trays and looking lovey-dovey, then to where Jackson and Danny were still in line, pushing each other with smiles on their face, to Scott behind them staring at Kira across the hall, to Isaac checking out, staring at Allison.

“Yeah, I would.”

After Scott saved Kira from falling and spilling her tray all over the cafeteria, he was invited over to Kira’s the next day.  They were all cheering on that romance. 

Stiles still hadn’t had a chance to speak with Derek again, but at least this meant they might get some information as to what a kitsune was doing showing up in Beacon Hills.

Stiles left that up to Scott (and Lydia who was texting him exactly what questions to ask).  He needed to find Derek.  The apartment turned up empty save Cora.  She was painting her toenails and browsing community colleges nearby. 

“You’re staying?” Stiles asked after sitting down next to her.

“I’m thinking about it,” Cora shrugged.  “Isaac needs somebody to hold his hand through his current crush.  You should have heard him yesterday talking about Allison.  I can only assume Scott was worse.” 

Stiles laughed, near hysterically.  “You’re totally right.”  When he calmed down, he bumped shoulders with her.  “It would be cool if you stayed.”

“It would be cool if you made up with my brother.”

“It would be cool if you told me where he was.”

Cora shook her head.  “That’s an easy one.”

Stiles thought about it for a moment.  “Yeah.  You’re right.”  He patted her knee, earning a growl as it jostled the polish brush.  “We’d all like to see you stay, you know.  You fit.”

“I have a home.  I lived with the Ribeiro pack for eight years.”

“And you lived with the Hale pack for eight years.”

Cora shrugged again, biting her tongue as she did her pinky toe.  “It was a different pack.  I was a different person.”

“Still,” Stiles shrugged, heading towards the door.  “It would be nice if you stayed.”

When Stiles looked back before leaving, Cora was smiling softly, pulling up another local college page on Derek’s laptop.

X

“No.  Kira doesn’t know about any of this,” Mrs. Yukimura said.  “But I don’t suppose it will stay secret for long if she’s befriending the entire wolf population of Beacon Hills.”

Scott looked down at his phone sitting on the counter between them.

“ _Yes, all good.  But what prompted your return?_ ” Lydia asked.

Mrs. Yukimura crossed her arms defiantly, but answered anyway.  “There had been a lot of activity lately in this area.  I had wanted to make sure something I trapped here was secure.  And considering the recent use of the nemeton, the worry wasn’t completely unwarranted.”

“MOM!  THERE ISN’T ANY VASE.  CAN’T YOU MAKE DAD FIND IT.”

“Your father’s ordering the pizza!  And it’s behind that stack of history books, just keep looking!” Mrs. Yukimura called back. 

“But what was it you had secured?” Scott asked.

“It’s still trapped.  I made sure.”

“ _I still need to know, Mrs. Yukimura.  So I can create back up plans.  I need to know everything._ ”

“You can’t kill it.”

“ _Maybe not, but if anyone can figure out how to keep it from harming anyone if it gets out, it’s me._ ”

Something about Lydia’s voice must have convinced Mrs. Yukimura because she sighed and uncrossed her arms.  “You’re safe for now,” Mrs. Yukimura replied.  “But I’ll set up a meeting.  Tell you my particular history.”

“That’s all we ask,” Scott said.  “Thanks for cooperating.  I can’t tell you how crazy the last few groups of people behaved.” 

Kira stumbled into the dining room, her hair a little mused.  “Okay, found it,” she grinned, holding up the ceramic for her mom. 

Scott caught her eye and Kira grinned. Scott sent a blinding reply with his own.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Lydia took that as her cue to hang up.

X

Derek was sitting in front of the fire place in the Hale House.  The living room wasn’t above the cellars so weeds and grass were starting to sprout out of the floorboards.  Derek could smell Stiles, the warm blue of his soul.  His scent didn’t have a word for it.  Just blue, like the ocean glistening in the sun.  That was what Stiles scent reminded him of, although there was no salt air about it.  Stiles’s heart was beating overtime and Derek could feel the way Stiles ached over what went down between them.

The pack bonds were knitting together like steel cable, stronger than before.  But the live copper wire between him and Stiles never stopped pulsing in the brief interim they were left alpha less. 

Derek waited.

After leaving Stiles’s house the other day, Derek ran.  He tapped into his wolf and managed a full shift and he ran.  It was the only way to keep himself sane.  It was the only way to forget about Kate.  To forget she could have come back, that she could have hurt him again.  Could have hurt Stiles.

So Derek ran until he couldn’t anymore and he sat here, holding in his panic, holding in his fears, and waiting for Stiles.  Because Stiles should have told him, yes, but Stiles was also right.  Stiles was the one who was keeping him safe.  Derek had only wanted to know to make sure Stiles was safe.  That’s who they were to each other, after all.  Even before Stiles was bit.  They were the ones keeping each other safe.

Stiles came and sat down next to Derek, their knees touching.  And Derek waited because Stiles always had something to say.  But he stayed quiet.  After a while, Stiles took Derek’s hand and laced their fingers.  Derek surprised himself by speaking first.

“I’m thinking of rebuilding,” Derek said.  “Or tearing it down, put up a garden.  Redo the underground bunker so there’s plenty of ways to escape if anything goes wrong.  I don’t know.  But not, not this.  Not this anymore.”

“We can bring it up to my dad.  He’ll know what channels you need to go through for building permits and stuff.”

Derek counted their heartbeats.  One, two, five, seven, twenty, twenty-nine, thirty four.   “I was afraid.”

Stiles pressed closer and squeezed Derek’s hand, encouraging him to go on.

“You told me about Kate, and I was afraid.  Because she… she’s unstable.  She was always unstable and knowing she turned into something she always hated means she was even more unstable and I was afraid because it meant if she was really back, she could come here and hurt _you_.”

“Derek..”

“No, I just.”  Derek held onto Stiles’s hand tightly, taking a slow breath.  “Once I calmed down, I realized that this isn’t just… You can’t just say you want this.  Neither of us can just _want_ this, Stiles.  We’re tied together and we’ll always be tied together, but.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’ll work,” Stiles finished for him when Derek was quiet too long.  “Do you want it to?”

“Yeah.  Yeah I do.” Derek said, resting his head onto Stiles’s neck.  “Do you?”

“Duh.”

Derek snorted. 

“But wanting isn’t enough,” Stiles said, understanding it.  “We’ll have to work for it.”

“No keeping secrets, Stiles.  Not from me.  Not if we want this to work.  Even if it would save me a near heart attack,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded into Derek’s shoulder before pushing back just enough to roll over and straddle his legs over Derek’s waist.  He trailed his slender fingers up Derek’s arms and neck, settling them on his jaw, caressing his cheek bones with the pad of his thumbs.  Derek locked eyes with Stiles, his beautiful whiskey eyes.  Stiles flashed, beta gold, and Derek flashed his electric blue eyes back. 

It was like a jolt of electricity running between them.

“I want this for forever,” Stiles whispered.  “And even if we fight, and even if we make mistakes, and even though I may be young, you’re young too and we’ve both seen our fair share of guilt and grief and war and blood and I love you.  I’m not sure when it happened, and but I’ve always cared, and I’ve always tried, and yes I want this.  I want this enough to fight for it, to work for it, to _live_ for it.”

“You love me?” Derek asked, inhaling the rich scent of Stiles right off his lips. 

“Yeah, you idiot.  Pay attention.”

Derek brought up a hand to cup the back of Stiles’s head, combing his fingers through his hair.  “I love you, too.”

“I know.”

Derek breathed out a laugh before capturing his soft lips.  They kissed for a long time, long, languid kisses that were deep and passionate, each one saying yes, always, forever, now, more. 

“We’ll make this work,” Derek said against Stiles’s lips.

Stiles pressed his lips a little bit more firmly against Derek’s and agreed.  “We’ll make this work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [FIND ME ON TUMBLR](http://inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also! I'm made a webseries about werewolves! [The Werewolf Diaries](http://www.youtube.com/c/TheWerewolfDiaries)
> 
> **HEY!!! NaNoWriMo is coming up!!! Check out[my tumblr posts](https://inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com/tagged/nanowrimo) about it to learn how you can follow my original work**


End file.
